My Damage
What do I look for in a vindictive act?
Something quiet and meaningful mostly to myself.
The trouble in my life is always at the cross roads of logic and desire.
Logically I won't love Myex forever. I won't want him forever. I don't love or want him now, I just hate losing. And my desire is a flicker in dry California heat, just waiting to erupt. My desire is fury and holy vengeance. Lust. None and all of that is true. Some days I live in a dimly lit, cluttered room and want for nothing. The next episode. A little rest. A nap. But nothing. Some days emotions grab my chest and pull it up to my throat, leaving it there to slowly block all the air and life from my body. These days cause the tremors.
I'm a dying eye. Teary, blurred, red, hot, glassy, foggy, taught and covered in the sheen of a dull discomfort. I look at the things that got me to this state and wonder if there is anything that can repair my soul. Did any of it really matter? Does it now? I could die at any moment, blink out to the ever-blackness, the eternal blindness, and would any of it have been quite as serious as I presumed? Myex used to say to me that we could die, he could die, and the ripples of the moment would be the anger I felt toward him. As if I were cursing him. A lot of our time together feels like a curse. There's an almost supernatural sense of confusion that comes over me. I get reminders of our happiness through apps on my phone and I wonder what the universe is playing at. I get messages from Stosbet when I'm trying to be better.
I destroyed a bunny. A small thing. A meaningful thing. And a shirt. At the time Myex countered that the impulse was useless because doing so would not sate my hurt. He decided that nothing would ever be enough and that was more than enough to solidify my plans. He wouldn't be the one to determine whether there would be an end. If I thought I could feel better destroying totems. If I thought this could be cathartic- that would be enough. So I took them and I cut them to strips and threw them away with the knowledge that the act was only significant to me. He didn't care about the things because he doesn't associate feelings to objects- his nostalgia is almost entirely cerebral if he'll admit to it's existence at all. It wouldn't matter to Stosbet, because she wouldn't know. I could be crueler than I already was being and rub it in her face, but in the end it truly wasn't as satisfying as I hoped, so anything further would just be senseless damage.
She did find out. She found the bunny missing and I didn't feel like lying. The better thing would have been to ignore the question. She seemed to take it personally, and oddly without reflection on our previous life. Without consideration that the small, innocent rabbit was given as a gift to a person I loved when I thought he was exclusive to me. That the tiny yellow system of ovals was given by a girl to a boy she liked, loved, and slept with, with a complete understanding that the boy had a girlfriend that did not know about the relationship they formed. She asked what my damage was as though her being it was completely illogical. As though she hadn't admitted to giving him something that was meaningful but inconspicuous so that I would not be alarmed by the item's sudden appearance. So that a symbol of her love might live right beneath me. She mentioned I have Myex and his daughter.
And I began to wonder if that was something to appreciate. If maybe I shouldn't be concerned by old gifts and beds and sheets that we bought together and are being used now on a new love. If maybe just having someone you care about in your life should be enough.
I'm not sure.
The crux of my problems are at the crossing of logic and desire. What is worth loving and what do I look for in a vindictive act?
I still think about Cera a lot. I wonder about how things splinter. Was there ever a time when we were similar and where did that diverge? What makes her accept things I can't? The answer is obvious and cruel. She didn't live through the lying and cheating of Myex that created this new, honest person. She didn't live through the cycles of depression or the long custody battle. She didn't live through any of the hardships that tear at young love. She may have with someone else, and that is why they are no longer together. Her experience with Myex is a blank slate. A desire formed over 6 years that is finally fulfilled and with no commitment on her part. She swings in, gets what she wants, listens and has no need to worry about whether she wants to stay. He has a child anyway. So she can be the good, calm, happy experience because she's getting the calm, honest guy who is willing now to be better for a better chance at a real happiness.
Whether watching him carelessly stumble through this will be enough is something I have yet to determine. We both fall into our vices.
Something quiet and meaningful mostly to myself.
The trouble in my life is always at the cross roads of logic and desire.
Logically I won't love Myex forever. I won't want him forever. I don't love or want him now, I just hate losing. And my desire is a flicker in dry California heat, just waiting to erupt. My desire is fury and holy vengeance. Lust. None and all of that is true. Some days I live in a dimly lit, cluttered room and want for nothing. The next episode. A little rest. A nap. But nothing. Some days emotions grab my chest and pull it up to my throat, leaving it there to slowly block all the air and life from my body. These days cause the tremors.
I'm a dying eye. Teary, blurred, red, hot, glassy, foggy, taught and covered in the sheen of a dull discomfort. I look at the things that got me to this state and wonder if there is anything that can repair my soul. Did any of it really matter? Does it now? I could die at any moment, blink out to the ever-blackness, the eternal blindness, and would any of it have been quite as serious as I presumed? Myex used to say to me that we could die, he could die, and the ripples of the moment would be the anger I felt toward him. As if I were cursing him. A lot of our time together feels like a curse. There's an almost supernatural sense of confusion that comes over me. I get reminders of our happiness through apps on my phone and I wonder what the universe is playing at. I get messages from Stosbet when I'm trying to be better.
I destroyed a bunny. A small thing. A meaningful thing. And a shirt. At the time Myex countered that the impulse was useless because doing so would not sate my hurt. He decided that nothing would ever be enough and that was more than enough to solidify my plans. He wouldn't be the one to determine whether there would be an end. If I thought I could feel better destroying totems. If I thought this could be cathartic- that would be enough. So I took them and I cut them to strips and threw them away with the knowledge that the act was only significant to me. He didn't care about the things because he doesn't associate feelings to objects- his nostalgia is almost entirely cerebral if he'll admit to it's existence at all. It wouldn't matter to Stosbet, because she wouldn't know. I could be crueler than I already was being and rub it in her face, but in the end it truly wasn't as satisfying as I hoped, so anything further would just be senseless damage.
She did find out. She found the bunny missing and I didn't feel like lying. The better thing would have been to ignore the question. She seemed to take it personally, and oddly without reflection on our previous life. Without consideration that the small, innocent rabbit was given as a gift to a person I loved when I thought he was exclusive to me. That the tiny yellow system of ovals was given by a girl to a boy she liked, loved, and slept with, with a complete understanding that the boy had a girlfriend that did not know about the relationship they formed. She asked what my damage was as though her being it was completely illogical. As though she hadn't admitted to giving him something that was meaningful but inconspicuous so that I would not be alarmed by the item's sudden appearance. So that a symbol of her love might live right beneath me. She mentioned I have Myex and his daughter.
And I began to wonder if that was something to appreciate. If maybe I shouldn't be concerned by old gifts and beds and sheets that we bought together and are being used now on a new love. If maybe just having someone you care about in your life should be enough.
I'm not sure.
The crux of my problems are at the crossing of logic and desire. What is worth loving and what do I look for in a vindictive act?
I still think about Cera a lot. I wonder about how things splinter. Was there ever a time when we were similar and where did that diverge? What makes her accept things I can't? The answer is obvious and cruel. She didn't live through the lying and cheating of Myex that created this new, honest person. She didn't live through the cycles of depression or the long custody battle. She didn't live through any of the hardships that tear at young love. She may have with someone else, and that is why they are no longer together. Her experience with Myex is a blank slate. A desire formed over 6 years that is finally fulfilled and with no commitment on her part. She swings in, gets what she wants, listens and has no need to worry about whether she wants to stay. He has a child anyway. So she can be the good, calm, happy experience because she's getting the calm, honest guy who is willing now to be better for a better chance at a real happiness.
Whether watching him carelessly stumble through this will be enough is something I have yet to determine. We both fall into our vices.
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