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)
