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)

 

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