Oh, mirror in the sky, What is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life?

A day of revelations.

When I was sick after my operation, B was at Pride with Mrs B.  I didn’t realise this was the reason she couldn’t see me at the time.

She never told me we were through.  She just told me it was hard for her and that I didn’t understand.  She also told me she loved me and she wanted to be with me but didn’t know how.  She gave me a diamond ring by Alex Monroe.  (My favourite jeweller, ironically now, he will always remind me of our affair.  Poor man, and his beautiful hand-wrought field animals and flowers, complicit in our twisted acquaintance without ever knowing!)

With hindsight, I didn’t know how to be with her.

I couldn’t be with her.

Aside from all the attacks on what she deemed my essence, she simply never wanted anything other than sex from me;  she just knew dishonesty would make it easier to procure.

I wasn’t in love with B.  She brought out that thing in me that the bully girls did at school.  I wanted B to like me; I was scared of not being special to her, because I was afraid of how she could hurt me if I was ordinary.  I played a losing game where I tried to make her like me by being what I thought she wanted me to be.  I didn’t know this at the time.  I just thought as long as she wanted to touch me, hold me, fuck me, I was alive.  She was alive somewhere else, whilst my kind of love drained her very quickly.

She didn’t have the capacity to love me, so deeply entrenched in Mrs B is she.

I will probably always think of B.  Remember B, at the very least, as I remember very little of the last three years, whether due to the tramadol, the alcohol, the heady intoxication of the mania of never knowing where I stood with her, or the cocktail of zopiclone and a succession of anti-depressants which failed to fix me.  Today I thought of B as I threw out bits of sentimental shit I held onto, and stumbled across the thing I thought I’d lost almost a year ago, the ring she gave me … today when I found that ring, I woke up and thought it was time to grow up, because adults don’t always get what they want, and I ought to remember this, because as a kid I didn’t get what I wanted either, and I’m still here, and the world didn’t end; half the time I didn’t know what I wanted, I just thought I wanted B, without ever knowing who the hell she really was.  I cannot really blame her for that, not one tiny bit.

(re: Fleetwood Mac)

 

I never knew time pass so slow, I wish I’d never met you or that I could bear to let you go…

At dead of night ’til break of day
endless thoughts and questions keep me awake
It’s much too late

You didn’t phone when you said you would
Do you lie?
Do you try
to keep in touch? You know you could
I’ve tried to see your point of view
but could not hear or see
for jealousy
I never knew ’til I met you

 

Crisis has hit already with you.

I have now lost track of all time, and even the time that was ours.

I told you at the start I was insanely jealous and what I’d done before.  You wouldn’t tell me what you’d done, and proud to the end, I left it at that.  I am wondering though, how when you are so violently jealous yourself you could do this to me.  That you could go home every night to someone else and I would cease to exist without you, that my life would stop because then I couldn’t breathe.

My crisis is thus: I don’t have anything material to offer you, and you’ve doubtless much to lose now.  You are not shifting for me, and of course I know you would have shifted straight away if I had the country house and the Aga.

But this isn’t the crux.  I think you are in control of me.  While I could accept that I would never have any more than the snatched glimpses and the illicit rendezvous, you told me I wanted more, you told me you wanted more, and made me want more, even as I couldn’t admit to myself I wanted that.  But you had to have me absolutely, and you worked away at me until you did.  Then offered me nothing in return.  I’ve needed you so much, and you haven’t been there, and I have had no choice.  Every time I see you it breaks my heart now because I cannot feel fulfilled knowing that loss is inevitable.  My heart is burnt out already.

This should have been our time, when we wanted each other every second of every day, and we made something together; when we found out what it was that squeezed our lungs so hard we couldn’t breathe, what clenched our cunts with words and looks and thoughts alone.  But now I feel we already missed that boat.  My heart sinks at the thought of the loss of you every time you come around.  My home is no longer my home, just the place you might entertain the thought of me when you itch, and so I scratch.  You walk away every time and I have no control of that.  Nor over what we do.

I dreamt about you when you first told me you loved me.  And you were dancing around like a maniacal pixie and I could not catch you and you floated away just out of reach, but close enough for me to see your enchanting smile.  This is what I have.  All I have.  And I have no power and you break my heart.

I really don’t understand you and what you do, and how you feel about me.  Most of me thinks you are playing a game where you watch me break, and if I go too far you always reel me back.  Because you need to be loved by more than just one person.  That part of me doesn’t believe you love me, because I think I know how you love others.  Your capacity for falling in love is so much greater than mine.

But I have fallen in love with you.  And I’m petrified of losing you.  I hate the changes we go through because I do not have the emotional experience to comprehend what is happening to us, and what might one day happen, other than what my experience tells me is inevitable loss.  I know I have never felt what I feel for you before, nor wanted what I want with you.

(re: the Pet Shop Boys)