the following is a rant because I�m not thinking about organizing my thoughts. I�m just raving.
how do i write this. where do start sorting things out? fiction, poetry, email, melodrama and gritting teeth. where do i start telling about its slow gnashing and gnawing.
if i were smart i could put it together, like theron. if i were bright i could fashion something worthwhile out of it, like jenn. perhaps if i was tormented enough i could turn it into images, like andy (wow its been so long since i've seen and recognized that name in print). if i was wise and gifted i could live lovingly and protected, like rob. if i was daring and somehow sure i could put my fist high into the world, like dominic. if i was kind and giving i could make a nourishing meal, like zuri. if i were interesting i could write a song strummng invisible strings, like january. if i was open and vulnerable i could fill a room with the vigor of my laughter and my tears, like toni. if i were driven to a point or backed into a corner i could rend and bleed and damage, like ruel or oscar or ivan.
but i'm only me and i limp now, a little, because of my recent falling re-injury.
i sent an email, recently, to someone who used to be in my life as it rounded out the close of my younger years. and as i'm told that you never forget your first.. anything. that is to say, your first meaningful lesson in the form of romance and/or relationship i suppose that i will never really forget him. but please remember that forget, here, does not mean the same thing as love or not love. when I say that I suppose I will never really forget him does not mean that I still love him or want something from him. but it is true that no matter how i try to get passed it, i will never forget the first piercing shock to my otherwise sheltered ego and heart to hear him with my nineteen year old ears, I�m still in love with her and can you help me. those things are facts but it�s no longer something that i dwell on in the same way that i might have in my younger years.. eight or nine years ago in particular.
i, in my briefly re-invigorated correspondence, have tried to say something to him about suicide�which is the reason i felt compelled to intervene with an email to him, in the first place. the main objective in the matter was to get across the message: I know we have not truly been friends for many years now but I am saying to you �don�t kill yourself�.
but I think that i was wholly misunderstood by him. when i wrote the line saying that he "broke my heart. and i abandoned [him]" i did NOT mean it as reproach or a call for an apology or that he deserves all of the pain he has gone through (self inflicted or not). i meant it, embedded as it was in the larger point, as an example of me, then, having recognized the hurt an anger and responding in a like manner: hurtfully and angrily, i abandoned him and i'm sorry for having done so. for contributing to the mess and for maybe even stealing his thunder and misery..? what was in the apology? well.. I was hoping that the apology, if he recognized any sincerity in it, would be something that could be added to the credibility portion of my plea to him not to kill himself.
this whole thing is a such a tangle, now. and where was i? where am i. i don't know. the whole thing has turned into something that even i, in my own instability, cannot have anticipated.
i mean. no one, to my knowledge and understanding, holds him solely responsible to that awful childhood mess. sure I think of him as a major player in it, from my skewed perspective, but ultimately it was just a mess and it happened with no excuses and so now what? what is the good in living every breath of it again and again and calling it inspiration? inspiration cannot be wrought out of a dead vessel.. with no new information.. anything that comes out of reliving the past over again (especially this one) does not accomplish anything. you cannot squeeze blood from a corpse that has gone through the process of rigor mortis. and no one is trying to take his pain from him. none of us (i don't even know who us is anymore) are saying that he should forget what was. but should all of us live everday of our lives lodged in the dead scenarios that have passed? how is "moving on" an evil, hateful, less than worthy path?
moving on does not equal forgetting. moving on isn't even the same as continuing to move toward something. i'm not even saying to him what dom once said to me that made me angry. i'm not saying, get over it, that was puppy love. i'm not even saying get over it. that wasn't even the point of the message.
the whole point was to say:
don't kill yourself. call it opinion, call it the stains made by perspective but this is why i think you should not try to stop your own life.
and now that i'm thinking about it further i think i should add, "don't kill yourself and then leave, as your last words and sentiment on this earth, you are to blame because you did not love me back the way i wanted or planned or hoped or dreamed." without even recognizing the fact that she did love you AND the friendship you brought with you before you went and messed it up with wanting to be something more romantic.
i'm thinking about it more now and it IS, to me, although on a smaller scale, just like that time during the christmas play downtown when everything was still so new.
jenn was troubled over something we weren't sure about. she was clearly hurting from something that was said and it affected her mood. but it was something that she could not yet articulate. she couldn't really be expected to confide in anyone on the spot. not even andy. and not only did he misunderstand but i think that her reluctance to go to him (the only one in the early group friendships to claim to know her well) i think it hurt his pride not to know what was happening. i mean that i don't doubt that he wanted to help but his temper and reasoning did nothing to help the issue. he said, "she's my best friend and i want to know what's wrong. why can't she talk to me?! i want to know what's going on. I should know!"
in my mind (and my reaction) at the time i thought that what drove him to say and feel what he did was the need to own her. to own her love, her friendship, her confidence.. and it was a hurting, insulting, shock to him (however subconsciously or unconsciously) that she didn't feel she could go to him, then, for the kind of comfort that friends are suppose to offer and open to each other. indeed, an understanding that only friends of a sort can claim from one another.
this is what i think has gone on.
I know, now, that I was wrong to have tried to speak up. I was misinterpreted, I think, and it�s a shame.. unfortunately, I don�t think it will ever be done with. its one of those things.
20:38 - Saturday, Feb. 19, 2005
Recent entries:
oday.html">the 3 month countdown begins - 05 May 2018
anothrburst.html">another burst - this used to be my playground
newlife.html">begin at the beginning. - 10 April 2008
moody.html">a blanket for a bad mood under the sun. - 25 March 2007
emilludwig.html">...kissing a fool... - 05 December 2006
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