I am Jack's :: Fulfilling Satisfaction
Solo
Amnesia, A Machine for Pigs OsT :: Mandus (Extended)
When is an afternoon off not an afternoon off?
When you show discipline, and fill your time with things you need to do, instead of the things you want to do.
And you know what? I feel pretty good about that.
I'm 1/3rd of the way into memorizing my 7 Tenets.
I've memorized the first half of Katie's poem, and have already been experimenting with different tonal inflection when reciting it to myself.
It's very powerful. And sad.
I practiced undertones for over an hour-- it's actually lot harder to find a fundamental with an overtone at such a low octave. Like, I can get it when I'm doing a formant "e", but I lose it when I try and slide around the scale.
That's alright, though-- it feels like real progress.
Workout, too, was solid. Filled with multiple instances of being exhausted muscularly, and then biting down on my mouthguard, hard, and forcing myself to finish a set.
And now, I'm here.
I was going to write about something else this evening, but I think I rather would do the topic I found myself spending a lot of today pondering.
The one I was going to do can wait a few days; it's a strongly-developed story-theory, so it's not as though I'm going to forget it.
And honestly, I think I can come up with more to add to it.
What I feel I should devote time to, this evening, is paying my respects, internally, to Katie. And maybe trying to mentalize.... alternate mindsets, for her during this time.
I've spent the past few days going over a handful of theories that have been birthed in my mind, and given form, in here, without the straining effect of a censor or filter to "catch" it.
Being able to write about my suspicions and theorums and logical deductions has been immensely cathartic; not having to swallow them down, like a nettle bulb, is a relief.
And now that I've managed to vomit that all out, and relieve myself of them, I should turn to a more enlightened and sympathetic lens of view.
What about Katie? What does she feel, do you think?
Well, before we get into that, I should back up.
I have spent the past few days in convenient forgetfulness of the things for which I asked of her. And how, even as uncommon and unorthodox her method of acquiescing to my beseeching, she still very much did relent.
I asked for a sign to not give up on her; she showed up at my house, and texted me two day later.
I lamented her silence the following 3 weeks, feeling as though the unknown was murdering me; she called me, again, last Friday.
The small requests I've made for demonstrations of caring have been met. They have.
And here I am, being slightly petulant, greedy, and ungrateful.
Well. That should be enough of that.
That isn't to say that I feel as though my previous hypothesii are retroactively invalidated. Rather, if those estimations of her behavior and rationale were born of wisdom, and insight, and logic, and knowing.... then this entry should be the encapsulation of gratitude, and emotion, and patience and humility, and respect given for the gestures offered.
And when I think about that, I'm more than a little abashed.
Because I am thankful.
She didn't need to do any of those things, at all.
But she did.
Now, maybe I'm just sitting here, and projecting whatever it is I want to see in her responses. Again, extolling her actions in a way that exalts her, and thereby keeps me in a state of perpetuation of her heightened value.
But you know what? That's ok. I would rather be deluded than ungrateful.
And so, now what?
What does Katie feel?
Well.
She is probably resentful. For not letting her move on. For breaking my streak of passivity, and engaging in willfulness.
She is probably thankful. For daily and semi-daily reminders of how valuable she is, as a human being. Not just to me, but as a sum-total creature of high-esteem.
She is probably confused. If she stops to think about her situation, she likely struggles-- in lumpy, uneven amounts, I'm sure-- but at least a little with how she does feel, and how she should feel.
("Should" of course being a grossly subjective word, and a very ugly one, at that.
And I really, really hope I haven't conveyed to her that I think she "should" feel any way other than she does. I desperately want her to feel whatever way she wants or needs to feel, without me malingering all over her shit.)
But seriously.
I mean.
Why else would she mention "crossroads"?
Why else would she echo her own exaltation of our sex?
And why else would she mention certain unmentionables over the phone?
Why else would she be initially receptive to an email, and then slowly backpedal?
And why, too, would she allow me to finish my monologue to her, the last time we talked, instead of hanging up the phone?
Why did she react so quickly when I voiced despair, and hesitate in my continued commitment, here?
And why was she so adamant about correcting my misconception? What investment does that signify?
These things all mean something.
And y'know.... maybe they really are manifestations of being unable to tell me "no". That's fair, and feasible.
But I don't think it's that. Or, at least, not just that.
But she is still hurt, scared, confused. And she knows she has a stable, healthy, reliable thing going now.
So maybe it just doesn't make sense to her. She cannot reconcile "should feel" with "does feel".
And when she tries to turn the crank of her emotional and rational gears, she keeps getting bits and pieces of herself caught in the teeth.
So, it's easier to tell herself that she should do this, or do that.
It's easier to smash me into a certain estimation; force me into a mental coffin-of-sorts, so she can keep me at arms' length.
"When you get too close it hurts."
And that statement... it ties in closely with my next entry.
But that might be a day or a few out yet, so let's not get carried away.
I don't know.
I'm theorizing again.
And getting away from myself.
Let me reel this back in.
I love her very much. Miss her, too.
And it's still hard for me, sometimes, to remember to focus on mentalization. To show deference and respect, even when I can't have what I want.
But I want to.
I wish I could just tell her, y'know?
Tell her "thank you."
And, you know? When I write her that letter, that is probably what I'll do.
That project is like, it's own separate beast. It just keeps growing and growing in my mind, as this looming, insurmountable thing.
What the fuck do I even say in there?
Do I reference things I've written in here?
I mean, I don't want to quote myself; that would seriously be straight-up asinine. Could I seem more heavy-handed and obvious about wanting her to read all this nonsense?
So, no. None of that.
So, I might have to go back and prune my thoughts and compile something non-threatening, but meaningful, and .... man, I don't even know.
I know that I wanted to write her right away. I had to wrench my mind away from it several times during last Sunday; I wanted to sit down and compose her a letter so badly.
But.
That would have been.... "rude". Disrespectful. Willful.
She said 2 weeks at least.
So.
2 weeks at least it will be.
It would be very easy for me to indulge some devaluation of my own, y'know? "Those grapes are sour anyway," said the fox.
But I refuse.
I know that Katie is not. Even as she tried to deter me.
And it would be easy, too, to just let myself forget all the work that I've done to try and literally re-route my neural pathways. Short-circuiting selfish behaviors, rewiring my brain to help me reframe situations and contexts. Mentally discarding everything I've tried to learn, to help me... be better for her.
But I already did something like that more than once. And I just deny that reflex again out-of-hand.
I am appreciative. y'know? Because I have many things to be thankful for. (preposition)
They may be choked out by the suffocating foliage of Katie's vibrant emotional garden, but I would be a dirty liar if I tried to tell myself that they weren't there.
"I called to tell you I'm not coming back."
Yeah. I know, Katie.
I don't know that, yet; honestly I just refuse to let myself believe it.
But that's what I'll tell you.
And I, in turn, will try to continue to cultivate compassion and empathy and mindfulness.
The barometer of my success, on the other hand, is another matter entirely.
.....
Staring at the ceiling of my study, listening to this piano, and violin, and vocalist... it makes me wonder how the fuck I'm going to reconcile the reality of all of this.
She told me, point-blank, the "He is the one." Or, at least, strongly implied it. "I think so."
....
What can I say to that, y'know?
Maybe... maybe she said that to try and protect me?
To keep me from continuing my championing of her.
Maybe....
.... maybe this all hurts her, but not for the reason I like to pretend.
Maybe there is a conflict, here. But it's not about having a piece of her that yearns for me, too.
Maybe.... it's really about her... seeing me feel this way, and she just feels pity for me. Even through her drizzle-storms of rage, and her rolling fogginess of sadness, she sees all of this; my emotional investment in someone who has left me at the dock, and sailed away.
And she's just trying to tell me to not love her any more. Because she can't love me any more. Because she loves another.
Yeah?
I don't know...
....
You know, perhaps in the end, I should be thankful that Katie cannot discern between a platonic relationship, and a romantic one, with me.
Right?
I wouldn't truly want her in any capacity other than "possessed by me" (in the most mutually consensual, mutually respectful, mutually beneficial way possible, of course. In the way which she told me over the phone; how she resented me ever sharing her with anyone).
And even though I could disconnect the cable that runs from my brain to my heart, I would loathe doing it.
I mean really detest it.
I don't know if I could perpetuate the facade of just being her friend either, frankly.
Because I will always yearn for her.
And I'm not sure I could leave that cord unsocketed for very long without literally driving myself nuts.
....
This entry turned into something I didn't mean it to.
Haha.
Fuck.
Oh well.
It's honest, right? That's important.
And even though I've drifted away from the main thrust of the point I was trying to make, like some buoy anchored to the riverbed, it's still very much rooted in that.
She has more-or-less left my padded cell intact. My little room where I can fantasize about a place where I might someday ... have her back.
And even though she bangs on the door every now and again and shouts at me to "knock it off!", when no one is looking, after a quick glance up-and-down the hallway, she still blows a kiss through the double-paned glass when she thinks I'm not looking.
Or, at least, that's what my totally-gone, addled mind likes to let itself believe.
So I will sing my praises, in sincere thankfulness.
I am not ungrateful.
And I need to let her know that.
I still love her.
No less than ever.
I miss her.
Just for forever.
"I never said I would give you up/
But if I must/
Then tell me why, now.
.... "don't like me/ Don't like me/
Don't you know?/
I'm good for nothing."
"Don't like me,"/
Was what I told you/
When you called me up.....
~~
You know that place between awake and asleep?
....
11:20 p.m. - 2013-11-15
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