A Day Before Another Birth

This is given heavy, heavy weight: expectation. At some level, I must be susceptible to "heavy"; it sets off a dull excitement in me. I don't really know if it is beyond or below the trivial me, it's the raw me. Whatever it is it's intense, a sort of passion of closeness similar to a confession with no distance. I tried to talk about it but found misunderstandings made me seem mad and worthless of any explanations.

I am blank not furious, neutral. Sitting in my familiar confines of pastel green wall and almost bare room. My head is ballooning with all sarcastic bubbles and yeah, I'm thinking why I opened my self to another person from the other side of the world and talked openly in which it was a profoundly difficult business for me to do so, but I did. Now, the dialog between my inner and outer self is in constant dualism in that sense that I am always chatting away with internalized other. Essentially dramatic. I guess I've thought about the damage that could be done to my core self, to the very center of my self if I were to say, handed that center over to someone else..the getting-to-be-wrong someone else?

The past months seemed to be a struggle for me. A struggle to grasp reason as whether to stay and remain pacified for all the inconsistencies and roughness of attitude he has been showing me. Though I said I understood and tried to understand his idiosyncrasies, up until now, it pains me to feel like a crumpled paper ready to be disposed and dumped anytime. Purpose done. Throw. Thank you very much. Or not even thanking at all.

I don't know what he really wants. When I looked back and examined all the things that happened, the chats, the experience and feeling of transcending the strange familiarity between us seemed to be magical but as I wrote in my previous journals, magics are illusions. The thrill of something about to happen, I just have to blurt stuff out.

Most people feel similarly, they don't question the experiential process. They are starving for the release, the love-- whatever their emptiness dictates. They don't want to think it could be manipulated, conjured, projected. The thing is, it works--manipulated. And I'm afraid it is happening to me. More, I was hurt, looking back at all the good times of being with each other seemed to fall in the categories of fondness, withdrawal, extinction...

I don't know how things exactly happen or things happened as he deliberately choose these things to happen. We like each other so much but we don't communicate,, maybe we did pretty well. Before. Because his interest WAS there. But now, it is different. Things are totally different and he started it all along.

One thing very few people with brains can be bastards and bitches forever. No matter how dominant the current identity is, there's nearly always a head battle about what the authentic identity's doing underneath. For all his buoyancy this matters to him. He is not quite sure where the real him is. Or if he is representing a "him" far, far away from the original.

And here I come with a bottle of beer and no contacts.

The journey back to my self is silent.