Letters To Him: Brink of Heartbreak

July, 7th 2008
Monday at 2:37am

Crusifer,

No words can begin to express the complexities of the apparent discord between us, nor the resulting emotions. I’d just as soon not wake up tomorrow, and yet I scream at myself for thinking or writing anything of the sort.
Imagery instead of description:

I see myself standing at an alter in a lacy black dress more grand than queen Elizabeth’s style. I’m smiling at first, and then slowly I start to frown and realize you’re not coming. I call you and there is no answer. I throw the phone onto the hard polished wood and it shatters. I scream but nobody can hear me and the church is empty. I use a pay phone to call you again, but there is no answer. I leave a heart-felt message and later discover you deleted it without listening to it.

I cry all day long and late into the night you finally come home. You don’t greet me and I’m lost as to why I’m not important enough to get greeted first. You don’t speak to me. I stand up and bash my head into the wall but you don’t notice. I slit my wrists and you tell me I’m being cute. I finally leap through the window and the glass shatters around my body and I scream as I land on the roof which caves under me.

I break my leg. In the hospital you ask me to have sex with you and I complain that I can’t. Brooding you leave, and I cry in your wake. You don’t answer my calls the next day and don’t visit me in the hospital and when you come back again you’re drunk but make promises to be good to me, then ask for sex again. Desperate for affection I give in, but it hurts, and you stop, dissatisfied and angry and then leave.

I discover I’m pregnant, but still you never show up at the alter, still you never quit drinking, still you never greet me when you get home, never call me and never answer the phone. I’m torn between abortion and keeping the growth inside me...

These are things I imagine everyday in vivid detail but have no guts to really act upon any of these thoughts. Like wakeful nightmares that clog my through and clench my stomach... I couldn’t give a damn if I was at home or on the street or at a job, either way I’d be dysfunctional and depressed. I can never understand why you don’t feel the same way... How can you function knowing I’m upset when I can’t even function when I feel so abandoned?

All or nothing Crusifer. You’re at nothing right now and if that doesn’t become all very soon then I’ll crack... I’m going to split open... My spirit will wail but I have no idea what I’ll do face to face. I feel broken already but I can’t bring myself to say it’s over... My stomach lurches at the thought every time. Every time I imagine packing your stuff up I feel sick to my stomach... Every time I imagine being home alone without you I clutch my stomach and curl up from the pain... Then my chest starts to ache again, and I cry again and then the headache starts... If I wasn’t such a sentimental, clingy, emotional, weak, stupid, naive, trusting, forgiving fuck then I probably would just declare it over and be done with it all... But my heart screams out about possibilities, plans, goals, dreams... Screams that I can’t just give up....

I said I would give up only if you gave up... I feel like you already have. There was no attempt worthy of note in the entire last eight days of creating a lasting love between us... Perhaps there were attempts at placating me for sex, or ensuring that we don’t break up the following morning... But no attempts towards a future, towards a marriage. I was ready to say it’s over when you were choking me. I was ready... And now I’m not anymore. I’m just ready to bury myself and never come out... Why did you have to break me like this? Why? Why? Why?

July, 11th 2008
Monday at 6:47pm

Crusifer,

You know that I believe you’re truly beautiful?

If I was constantly accused of lying when telling the truth then eventually I may give up telling the truth and just say what everyone expects me to say so that I don’t have to deal with being thought a liar. Therefor, I would turn into what I was called. “I am whatever you say I am,” says Eminem, which is just another reason to respect him.

If you tell me that I’m going to leave you and that you had better keep your friends around so that you’re not alone when that happens then I’m going to feel like it is inevitable because you believe it’s inevitable. The presence of people in your life who you shouldn’t need or want when you have me only shows that you’re not completely invested in this relationship which would make it wise for me not to be completely invested in this relationship. Eventually this can lead to break-up, therefor causing your exact prediction.

I admit, I accused you of not being able to keep to your word and said I expect you home at 5am last Sunday, so it’s no wonder you arrived at 1:00am, thirteen hours after you left. Though I find it unfair that I’m withholding against your prophesies and trying not to be spiteful and trusting when you seem to find me unworthy of your sympathy, trust or courtesy. Not that I’m saying that is how you feel, but it’s how I feel like you feel.

“The ball is in your court now,” I said to you a long time ago when I decided I had lost my power to say no to you. Perhaps I shouldn’t have given in so soon but I couldn’t help myself. You didn’t understand what I meant, and when you did understand you didn’t believe it. I gave you full reign over me and never took it back and I don’t understand why that’s never been enough.

Do I not ask your opinion enough? Is it just simply lack of time spent together? Do you feel like I’m inadequate? Do you feel like there is nothing I can offer that makes a fair trade for the things I want you to sacrifice? Are you honestly that forgetful? Do you really believe you’re better off as a carouser than as a family man?

I’m not sure what you believe will come of all of this. What do you believe is going to happen? You should consider your answer carefully, and not because you need to tell me that answer, but because you need to consider why you believe what you believe. Not “what do you hope” is going to happen, and not “what do you want” to happen, but rather what do you believe is going to happen... In your career, with your friends, with you family, with me, with your art, with your finances, in the next month, in the next year, in the next five years, in ten years, in twenty... If you believe things will go well in one area or another, why do you believe that? If you believe things won’t go well for one reason or another, why do you believe that? (We could go on to define things “going well” and “not going well” but lets just leave it at your opinion of well and not well.)

If you believe things will not go well in a certain area of your life then I ask you to contemplate why it won’t go well and what you can do about it. You should also note if you’re right or wrong over the next week, month and year about what went as expected and what didn’t, and if you did try to change something and it didn’t change or rather made something worse, then I invite you to consider that too.

It’s not that I don’t feel like you understand the importance of thinking ahead, because I know you do. I just think that your life currently is keeping you from thinking about your life as a whole and from looking deeper into what the future holds... I want to help you, and right now I don’t believe that I can because you’ve expressed to me that you don’t need help and that no one ever has helped and that no one can help. If you believe these things then there is no help for you, whether you need help in any aspect or not, and in my opinion we all need help on one level or another.

I’m a total ruin when we argue. I don’t desire to quarrel with you ever again. If you have a passionate opinion about a touchy subject, perhaps you should write me a letter about it and choose your words carefully as I have done so here. I feel like my talking is just running us in circles and I hate running in circles. I love you too much withhold my thoughts and feelings, so here is just a sample.

With love, Atara

Saturday, July 12th 2008 at 8:15pm

I guess... Sometimes lack of writing is not because I’m happy. I can’t seem to give reason to my lack of writing. I’m...

I can seem to do nothing but sigh. Every dream and hope is continually dashed and every project rendered pointless...

It’s all I can manage sometimes just to keep up with my hygiene and health and put on some semblance of sanity...

I started another novel. This is likely just another false-start, but the basis has held my interest enough that I think about possible places for the story to go throughout my days.

I’ve been getting up at a reasonable hour (between 11am and noon) and then napping from 7pm to 11pm and then staying up until around six in the morning for three or four days, until today, when Crusifer decided not to wake me up and I didn’t get up until nearly five o’clock.

All my ambition comes from love and nothing else and it seems this has been so since birth. As a toddler and young child it was for the love and admiration of my parents. As thoughts took over instincts I sought friends, but that failed me on every front. So then I sought sex, which in itself didn’t help much, but the relationships that developed around it gave birth to a new self; a self that understood what I wanted better and better with each month and year.

Now that I understand myself enough to know what drives me... I find myself in the greatest despair of them all. I realize that the things I want are...

I feel like my head is so heavy to hold up. My chest is constantly aching, especially around Crusifer. I find sex to be desperate and drug-like with a heavy kick-back to reality afterwards. No amount of salad seems to be helping and I’m not about to believe that this condition is food-related. I’m quite certain this is a disease of the mind and soul. (No need to include “heart” since the concept is included in the mind and soul.)

Catch 22...

Let’s say that I break up with Crusifer... (This thought makes me physically sick to my stomach... But for writing I’ll hold on a few minutes to think about it...) Say I get over my heart-break and lethargy after a few months or a year or however long it takes... Whenever I fully recover the only thing I’m going to want is to be back in love again. Hopefully I won’t be desperate or stupid enough to take the first thing that falls into my lap, but chances are that I would be stupid and desperate enough to do just that.

What good would it do?

Let’s say I stay with Crusifer... Say nothing changes. He continues drinking, he continues to excel as a tattoo artist... He continues to believe I’m trying to “enslave” him and that I’m a manipulative, lying, typical woman who can’t be trusted... I continue to feel trapped and lonely and miserable and unable to feel like he is mine....

What good would that do?

Yes, it was the right thing to do to break up with Tre, but that was so different. Tre was stealing and Crusifer is providing. Tre was messy and unkept whereas Crusifer is neat and often practical. Tre was violent where Crusifer is more brood-ish. Tre smoked five to ten times a day (weed) whereas Crusifer smokes every other day... And yeah, Crusifer has a bunch of faults of his own that I’ve already documented but none of them are so bad as to make me outright hate him the way I came to feel towards Tre in the end... (Right before the near-apathy set in.)

It was even the right decision for Tre’s sake. He went to college, and he’s doing well from all that I know and can tell, and he’s married to a woman who is better suited to him. All of that worked out for the best... And I knew when I left Tre that everything would work out for the best... But it’s just not the same with Crusifer at all...

If I were to leave him now... He’d turn away from the part of himself that I love so dearly and almost unquestionably turn into a “player” and party himself to death. I don’t believe he’d ever go on to having a family and if he did, not a particularly loving one. As for myself... I’m not sure I’d be able to forgive myself... If this feeling in the pit of my stomach is a taste of the resulting emotion... Then I’m not sure how I’d survive...

But I can’t go on with these antics about marriage and children with Crusifer. These romantical notions I have in my head won’t fly and that’s that. No matter how much I cry over it, denial will do no good. Crusifer won’t make me his first priority in life. He won’t quit drinking for me. He won’t give me the courtesy of a phone call to let me know what is going on...

I say these things so harshly and outright for me to believe them, not for anyone else really. I need to believe it so that I can get past it somehow.

I find it so hard to cry these days... It’s like I can’t let myself go. I’m afraid if I let go enough to really cry that I’ll never resurface... So I do this sort of silent leaking of the eyes and pitiful moaning, and sometimes I just find myself frowning until I have a headache, dry-eyed and quiet. None of it helps.

I run all sorts of advice through my head... Like that nice lady at the psychic meet-up group who told me I needed to find a mentor. I liked her a lot and she made me warm up to the group when I would have been much more withdrawn. And then from there I think about C’s offer to be a mentor to me (my ex-boss when I was a web-design intern) when I met with him for advice. But a mentor to what? I want a life-mentor and I’m not sure I can just delve into the problems that concern me most with him... Or anyone.

That’s why I have this blog after all... I guess I’m hoping to find my mentor online or something... It’s a lot easier when they can see you crying... I cry through so many of my entries. I can’t talk while I’m crying, but I can type. I can type almost coherently while crying, but I’d never get out two sensible words trying to talk and cry... Crusifer says all my tears make him feel bad. I’m sure he feels guilty and I’m sure he wants to change, but I don’t think any of his emotions towards me are strong enough to make him really do what it takes to be a good husband and father... I used to think it was possible, and hang on to that hope... But lately that hope is drifting away as night after night is just another heart-break...

Hm... Angel hasn’t written me back yet. I feel desolate... I’m not even tempted to bother posting this...

Tuesday, July 15th 2008 at 12:57pm

It’s difficult to grow accustomed to recognizing the possibility of permanence not being the direction this is all headed, but it’s becoming a part of reality to me. This is only still holding together as much as it is on his insistence that he wants this to work and that it will work. Time will tell.

In completely unrelated news, I’m trying to learn to mod games, starting with my all-time favorite, Civilization. I’m trying to start by using other people’s mods and the mods that came with the original and the expansion and combining them, so far without much luck. I’ve joined an online community of mod-makers to see what I can learn from them.

An another unrelated aspect of my life, my Aunt Mary was not able to move out due to paperwork technicalities in getting the house she wanted and through the whole ordeal has not been able to pay rent for something like four months now, putting the entire finances of the house under more strain than they already were. Also, a good friend of hers died of cancer very abruptly just a few days ago so she’s in a really tough time right now. I’m not sure what to say to her when I see her so I don’t say much of anything.

Tuesday, July 15th 2008 at 8:03pm

Post to Civilization Fanatics Forum:

I'm so sad to find that someone IS having the same problem as me, but that no one knows WHY.

I've spent about 10 hours total trying to get Fall from Heaven to work... Oddly, it doesn't seem to work on EITHER of my computers, which are totally different models. One is a desktop; dell, about three years old running on XP with decent stats only just now starting to go out of date, and the other is a laptop; only six months old, running on Vista with high-gaming stats.

I have the same issue on both computers which led me to think I was the one doing something wrong. But I've tried fresh installations following the exact directions and only switched from getting one error to another.

I'm going batty over it. Nothing is fulfilling when you know people out there are playing a fantasy-mod Civilization IV. I don't think anyone gets how serious this is to me. I played Test of Time (just because it was fantasy and in the Civ world) for four freaking years without really playing any other games at all.

And despite my distaste for the general way Age of Empires Engine runs, I also played Saga (online) and Age of Mythology (offline) for a great deal of time because so few games contain trading and building and strategy and fantasy all in one game. Fantasy is not just for RPG folks! ANYWAY, I digress.

Point is, what can be done about this error? There must be more than two of us!

Wednesday, July 16th 2008 at 12:52pm

Was it the weed? Perhaps. Nothing like weed to give you a full night’s sleep, even if I was a bit twitchy at first. It brought back memories of Tre saying, “will you please stop moving!” Crusifer of course, can sleep through anything, so it wasn’t his saying anything that reminded me, but rather my own annoyance at my twitching.

I think I’ve smoked about four times in the last year since I quit, and I have not drank at all since I proclaimed myself done with drinking last April. The only reason I really smoked at all in the intervening time since I said I was done with it is because... Well, there isn’t any real excuse. I can’t say, “oh, well, it’s medicinal when used at the appropriate time and in moderation,” and call that a real excuse when there are plenty of other things like hot baths, warm tea, standing in the rain, a long bike ride, a walk in a well-flowered area, a thoughtful entry, fruit, organic chocolate (though I no longer indulge in it because I don’t find that even worth the cane sugar in it, organic or not), a conversation with an old acquittance or my mom... Etc.

Nevertheless, my “excuses” or “reasons” are valid to some small degree. In each case I was with Crusifer and him and I alone. I’ve never accepted weed in company since I quit. For one thing, I don’t like looking like a hypocrite in public, (or much in private either) and for another thing, it’s really bad to talk a lot of shit about health and then do any type of drug casually with a bunch of people as if that’s just okay or something.

So why then, even when I’m alone? Pretty much to ease the stress I’ve been having with Crusifer. One of the three or four times was during a nasty argument. I was on the edge of losing my control, on the edge of doing something stupid and I could find no rest in my thoughts, no rest in any activity, and every action and word between us was just making things worse. He wanted to escape into his weed, and at that time, I concurred. We smoked, and then once the calm had set in I lambasted him calmly, reasonably, logically and with a straight face. I needed no emotion in my face or words, only the calm, true words, to express themselves. I spoke the way I write an entry, with few pauses and many good points. I found release, and at that time, I counted it worth it, and I still do.

I have not gotten “high” like I did that night since I quit. I was really blasted that night, but last night I only took in enough to participate in the activity with Crusifer. Enough to put me to sleep at a decent hour. The truth about weed? It’s benefits: increased relaxation, increased appetite, increased inclination to laugh or cry, increased inclination to rest and sleep fully and soundly. It’s side effects: slow mechanical ability, forgetfulness, laziness, mood-swings, and intense cravings for food. Basically, it’s side effects are it’s benefits, all except for the lung damage, teeth damage and possibility of a receding gum-line. But, I do believe (especially in a primitive culture where a hot bath is not readily available) it has medicinal properties worthy of note.

So was it the weed? I woke up this morning feeling great, but no, it was not just the weed. Crusifer brought me tea. We had excellent morning sex. I took a shower. I ran up and down the stairs to get to and from the bathroom. I have energy. I feel good. I suspect a good night’s sleep, some good morning sex, and Crusifer’s company all have something to do with it. I also suspect that getting Civilization IV’s mod: Fall from Heaven to work last night (after hours of struggle) may have helped. It feels good to be back!

Muscle Cramps Are Sure To Occur

Monday, June 2nd 2008 at 1:48am

So much for everything.

I’m still going to try the marriage fitness program, but after the fourteen weeks are up, if things are looking anything like they are now then this will just never work.

I’m hurting myself with all this misery. My muscles all over my body are cramping because I’ve let myself get cold in my desperate actions. Crying naked on a cold tiled floor is not generally good for your health.

In this last week I’ve thrown my keyboard into my monitor causing a scrape in the monitor. I’ve also stayed up until 9:00am arguing and crying. I smoked weed for the second time in one year. I spent a good deal of time on the floor naked. I banged my head into the wall about twenty times, and on the floor around six or seven times. I screamed out the window “I hate you” to no particular person at the top of my lungs in such a high pitch that my words were indiscernible. I’ve spent countless hours trying to find a solution. I’ve spent countless hours crying.

These are all very bad signs, and while I’m fully aware of all of the implications behind all of those actions I’m still unsure how to salvage myself best in this situation. I care too much for Crusifer to leave him when I know he wants to be with me so badly. It was hard enough with Tre, but with Tre I had several advantages. One of those advantages was that I realized I was with a thief, and there is no way I could ever stay with someone who is stealing from me. Another was that I wasn’t as attached as I thought I was because a lot of the connection was placed in the weed. These sorts of things do not apply to my relationship with Crusifer. I’ve been nuts about him since the start. I have never stopped loving him, though I have drifted more and more in the last few months. I have never really hated him. I have never really said “It’s over” and expected and wanted him to leave at that very moment. I proposed to Crusifer because I thought for sure that it was the right time, and what we both needed and wanted.

There are a couple things I can focus on to force myself to leave him. For one, he confessed to me this morning that the letter he wrote me about having a drinking problem was bull shit. He doesn’t believe he has a problem. So this tells me that he lied, that he won’t quit drinking, and that he did things just to make me stay. I resent all three of those with equal disgust, anger and depression. Another thing I can focus on to make myself leave him is the fact that he almost invariably ignores me when I cry now. The part of him that cares about my feelings seems to have retreated beyond my reaching. And thirdly, he’s told me he’ll continue to drink and hang out with his friends even if it causes us to break up.

There is an abundance of other things pissing me off, like his lack of trust in me, his continual proclamations that I’m lying or “full of shit,” the fact that he doesn’t call when he’s gone for a long time, that he doesn’t care if he breaks a promise to me, the fact that he finds comforting me something he shouldn’t have to do or doesn’t care to do or find worth while to do or whatever. The fact that he considers his own pain before mine in all situations even including situations where I’m obviously the one in more physical or emotional pain. He tells me that I come after his work and his art. He told me today he’ll try to put me first. We promised to try some more. I think this might be our last dance of trying, but nevertheless I still am going to give it everything I got. I won’t fall hypocrite to the very things I’m accusing him of by neglecting him.

Crusifer told me today that he feels like he’s two people... The one that likes to drink and hang out with his friends, the him that he is at work and the him that makes me miserable. We’re calling that part of him Cav, cause that’s what they call him at work. Crusifer however always cares about how I feel and is always striving to improve himself, be productive and spend time with me. Unfortunately he’ll always be more Cav than Crusifer because of his work life. That means that he isn’t ever going to be mine. Let me tell you, that’s heartbreaking. I feel wrung out to the point where I’m not even holding my head up straight. I don’t shift positions when my foot goes numb. I don’t cover up when I get cold. I keep shaking... I never shook so much or so violently as I have these past couple days. Unless I shook like this when Jeremy left me...

Needless to say I’ve been thinking about Jeremy a lot. Feeling so desperate always makes me think about him, partly because I associate the desperate feeling to how I felt after he left me. I also think about the fact that him and I could have been together this past year and a half. I was seriously considering it before I went out with Crusifer. I love the experience I’ve had with Crusifer. It’s had so many, many good times, and so many lessons and new ways to express myself and my love and find who I really am and what I really want on levels I never touched before... But I sometimes wonder if this was the choice that would bring me the most happiness...

Hard to say. I’d be a whole person right now if I had spent this time with anyone other than Crusifer. Really issue is that Crusifer and I identify in each other something that we can find no where else. I can find love with another man, but I might not be able to find the incredible relate-ability I’ve found with Crusifer. But while I’m on that thought, perhaps we don’t relate as much as I thought anyway. Those incredible discoveries in our first few months revolved around sex and art. Two incredible aspects of life, but not the most important aspect of life. For him, those are the most important aspects, for me, they come after my health, and after love.

I used to think I wasn’t right in my head because of the emphasis I put on love, being in love and the effects that love had on my life. Because other people didn’t relate to my affection need and because other people don’t feel the deep pain that I feel when I feel a lack of affection, I thought something was very wrong with me. Mort Fertel explained to me why I’m not a freak of nature. It’s not the affection that I want so bad, it’s the love that it signifies. I feel that if someone isn’t willing to move their hands about my body for ten minutes or so, then surely they don’t love me. The joy of touching is universal, and it’s easy and it’s enjoyable. If you’re not enjoying it, then either you’re not in love with the person, or you’re upset with that person at the time.

I can follow this same logic to uncover everything that Crusifer does that bothers me. By not calling me he’s saying a lot of things. He’s saying that he doesn’t believe that I care enough to worry, or that he doesn’t care that I’m worried. He’s saying that he doesn’t really miss me, or that he doesn’t think I’d like to be bothered with his call. He’s showing a lack of caring no matter the circumstance. Even if he’s busy, and even if he’s got other things on his mind, then this still shows a lack of priority. If I was his top priority, like he is to me, then he would never forget to call me, never lack of missing me, never neglect to touch me or talk to me.

A huge thing that bothers me is that I can’t get out of him anything he wants. Mort suggests intimacy interviews to uncover all of your partner’s desires. This interview should last for an hour or so, and hundreds of wants should be uncovered in detail. To my dismay I uncovered nothing new at all except for the lack of my priority in his life. I want opportunities to show him how much I love him, and to give to him. Part of the program is to pick three things from the list you’ve uncovered to do every day. One of these three things might be the same thing everyday. I have so little to pick from that it’s impossible without doing the same things everyday.

Pedicure, manicure, massages, cooking, and sex. Nothing else makes the slightest difference to him at all. And as Mort says, you can’t give something with having a willing receiver. Therefor if he doesn’t want it, then I can’t give it. Since I should spread my “gives” throughout the day, all I can really do is wake up, give him a massage, visit him at work and bring him lunch, cook for him when he gets home, and/or have sex with him. What a dull selection. Doesn’t he like it when I write him letters? *sighs*

Tuesday, June 3rd 2008 at 7:18pm

My mind has been turning to Jeremy a lot lately. I keep expecting to see him for some reason, and then feeling out of place when I don’t. I want to talk to him about the issues I’ve been facing with Crusifer and with myself. I’d like to hear his perspective. I seem to have lost my security in my relationship, because I don’t feel that “safe” feeling a lot, and perhaps I wish to see Jeremy to see if I feel “safe” around him.

I can’t say I don’t feel guilty about this. Certainly it’s not a socially acceptable thing to want to see your ex. It’s even less acceptable when your current relationship is shaky. I can blow this off by saying that I always wish I could make Jeremy into a friend, but clearly the meaning behind my desires in much deeper, and to deny it would simply be dishonest to myself.

More than anything I want to put the past behind me and start a family with Crusifer. Short of that I want to at least get most of the past behind me and be married to Crusifer without regret. Short of that, I’d like to at least find the deepest truth of the matter within myself and put the past behind me including Crusifer if need be. Short of that, I’d like to at least use a part of my past – Jeremy – for comfort through the hard times the future may bring. Short of all of that, perhaps I can write, write, and write my misery away until I feel much better.

I feel so utterly drained. I can’t seem to find a creative scrap inside me. I have no drive to create anything right now. I have no burning craving to do anything. I have no thought nagging to be written. I have no obligation to fulfill... Why does Tina never call me?

I wanted to be there for Tina after her baby’s birth and to visit her a lot and to babysit for her...

Why do I feel so blasted empty and heavy? Surely I’ve slept well enough. It’s not lack of exercise because I biked to see Crusifer at work. I did that today and yesterday in the spirit of Marriage Fitness. Three “gives” a day, and five “talk-charges...”

I’m really lost right now. Not sure why. I suspect a shower would help...

Wednesday, June 4th 2008 at 3:29pm

Preparations for Crusifer’s birthday have begun. Despite the stress in the past few weeks between him and I, I’m still determined to give this my best shot until I don’t see any decent options other than leaving him. Crusifer is following through with his promise to listen to the CDs and to do what they say to do. He keeps quoting, “put you first” in reference to me to remind himself, and I find it absolutely adorable. He even answered the phone in the middle of a tattoo to say hi to me when I called.

His actions the past two days prove yet again that he does want to make this work very badly, but it’s nothing convincing because I’ve seen him put forth a lot of effort before when he thought it was either put forth the effort or get dumped (and of course, it was a matter of putting for the effort or being dumped.)

I discussed with him the night before last the fact that I don’t even approve of him smoking weed. Ideally, he’d quit doing that too. He of course looks at me in exasperation for a moment, but also with questing. He is curious as to know why, and not jumping to conclusions, not accusing me of trying to make him a slave.

Somewhere along the past few days I pointed out that he’s a complete hypocrite. I was able to quote at least five things he said and then contradicted within the past few days. He wasn’t able to deny his hypocrisy, but together, we were able to explain it. He doesn’t have a split-personality, but he does have two sets of values. He adopted the second set of values (he says) in seventh grade in order to fit in. The second set of values are the common values of a low class black male living in Buffalo. These values include:

Drinking, partying, not caring, fighting at the drop of a hat, demanding respect from those around you, smoking a lot of weed, listening to hardcore music, staying far away from anything homosexual and generally being a homophob. They also include not taking any “shit” from your “bitch” and “slapping a hoe” if she gets out of line, and many other things along those lines.

We gave this set of values a name; Cav, which is what they call him at work. It makes perfect sense for them to call him Cav, because he is Cav while he’s at work. This worries me because he spends so much time there. Visiting him for several hours on Monday at work made a dramatic difference in his day and in mine. He felt like he had an ally and wasn’t afraid to be the “self” that he is around me. I felt like I had my soul-mate and was drawn out of the depression I’d been in for two days if only for a few hours.

Because visiting him helped so much on Monday I visited again briefly on Tuesday, both times bringing him a sandwich. The first one just meet, cheese and vegetables. The second one included meet, eggs, cheese and vegetables. Needless to say, the eggs were much appreciated.

So this brings me back to the conversation I had with him about the weed. Smoking weed once or twice a day is not something the Crusifer I know would do, it’s something that Cav does. I brought up that this is why his mother looks down on his job. She doesn’t understand that art is all Crusifer is about, and all Crusifer will ever do for a living and that tattoos is the best way for him to turn his art into cash, at least for now. Because his mother can’t understand those things all she can see is the ghetto customers, the ghetto co-workers, the foul language, the drug usage, and so forth. I agree that those things are hard to deal with, especially when someone you love in working in those conditions day in and day out. I’m more aware than anybody the toll it takes on his personality, ego and pride.

I explained to Crusifer about the values I wanted my children to have, and the values that I have. Those values don’t include associating with people who throw their lives away, who don’t care about their health or the health of their families and friends.

My values place compassion and love far above pride and material possessions and drugs and parties. My values place health far above the temporary enjoyment of any unhealthy activity. And I want my children to share that, and my husband. If my husband doesn’t share those values than my children will share those values about fifty-percent of the time, and that would be that.

After I explained in detail about that, he nodded and agreed, and said, “I’m not ready to just quit smoking weed. What do you want me to do?”

“Start small. Don’t smoke more than once a day, and don’t smoke near the time you come home from work. I want to see you sober.”

He agreed easily, because not that many days does he get the chance to smoke twice in a day. The only problem is, despite Crusifer’s ambition and understanding of self-improvement and of love, Cav has no respect for my values or for self-improvement. Is Cav the problem?

According to Mort, he explains that in every marriage there is Rachel and there is Laya. (Refer to the Bible, and to Jacob and his two wives.) Rachel is the person you want to marry, the person of your choice and desire. Laya is the person of your fate that comes with your choice no matter what you do. Mort says that Laya is not the problem. Cav is not the problem. How I react to Cav is the problem. I certainly don’t react well. I used to I think, but I’ve been losing my patience. It’s been too long to still have this problems in my opinion. But this isn’t about “me,” it’s about “we.”

Using Mort’s principles certainly steer away from breakup, and they certainly create bonding. The only thing that takes so much time is to bond enough and love enough to be able to really drop your issues with the other person. Accepting Cav will prevent break-up, but living with him will always cause me distress unless a deeper solution can be created. The theory is that if we both put each other first, and we both move our circle of life to include each other a much as possible, if we both establish that connection and compassion for each other, if we both rekindle the way we felt when we first met, if we both remove the conditions, drop the issues, and give each other affection, loving conversation and our presence in our giving each and every day then our problems will dissipate or find easy resolutions.

I believe that this is true, but I also believe that it’s no easy matter. Granted, when Crusifer makes me happy, it’s easier to let him do something I don’t want him to do. I can leave the room, because I’m not being needy because I already had my fill of him previously in the day. Granted, that if he asks for something I don’t prefer him to do, instead of just doing it, I’m much more likely to say “okay.” Granted that if he calls me throughout the day I’m going to feel more loved, and if I call him too he’ll feel more loved. All of this is very true and makes a very good point, but it really takes two. Keeping the ambition to do all this giving is beyond what I’ll be able to manage within a few weeks if I don’t feel that he loves me enough to do the same.

Note how I worded that. Not that I have to get the same back. I need him to love me enough to give the same back. Another important point which Mort stresses is that it’s not about what you’re getting, but what you both are giving. When you look at it that way, it straightens out a heck of a lot.

Friday, June 6th 2008 at 10:09pm

As any of my long-time readers know, the lack of entries is a good sign in 80% of cases with me. I have not written the past few days because I have not felt stressed enough to need to write. Even, now, I don’t need to. I just wanted to record a joyful day where I accomplished much.

I woke up from a dream where I was enjoying myself. I don’t know what the dream was about, though I do remember being pelted with bits of crushed brick. However, whatever the dream was mostly about, I enjoyed. I know this because I woke up feeling especially refreshed and good.

Crusifer brought me a cup of tea. I drank half of it, as usual, and then turned to giving him attention. As he bored of this activity (touching and talking about nothing) he strayed from the bed. I absentmindedly starting touching myself, and found myself aroused. I called him back to the bed, and after several minutes he finally came back and I lured him inside me. The lovemaking was short and sweet, the way I generally prefer. I came, he came. Can’t ask for much more, can you?

Well, I did ask for more. I asked him to take the few extra minutes it would take to shower with me, but he declined. I made a few attempts into coaxing him into it, but I think he became annoyed at this attempt. I cleaned up in my attic bathroom (the one with only hot water, no warm water) and then hurriedly got dresses and applied sun-block and followed him downstairs into the livingroom. We grabbed our bikes and carted them out the front door, off the porch and biked with him all the way to work. He was quiet and rebuffed my attempts at conversation. This dismayed me, but I didn’t let it affect my attitude towards the day. He didn’t smile, he didn’t speak except to answer questions, he didn’t initiate any kissing or touching when we got there, and so I was a little disappointed.

I contemplated my short skirt, tank top, morning sex and ride to work with him on the way back wondering what I could have done wrong. I guess it was the “nagging” about the shower. Frustrating as that was, the day was too bright to be bogged down because he didn’t smile for me.

I got home, showered. I asked my mom if she wanted to “play with blocks” before or after going to Wegmans. We decided on before going. I’m currently making the twenty-four “wonders” for the game I’m creating. These wonders all have the same size of the base but the wooden parts connected with hot glue are arranged in drastically different designs. So far my mother has made two, and Crusifer has made two, and I’ve made nine. None of them are really painted yet though, so that’s a whole other task in it self. My mother really enjoyed herself and that made me happy.

Then my mother and I went to Wegmans. I picked up organic granola (five boxes to mix), four packages of rice crisps, three cartons of Wegmans orange juice, one flat of Wegmans water, one bag of pistachios, two bags of sour cream and onion kettle chips and two bags of salt and vinegar kettle chips. Anything else... Hmm. I also got more razor heads, and... Grapes. I got the grapes mostly to eat while I was there because I was so dehydrated.

I gave my mom $25 in cash, because it’s all I had. I think I picked up $60 worth of stuff. Crusifer usually provides for these things, but recent strains in our relationship make me feel guilty for asking for money. He’s trying to save to go to Mass. for a week. Something about experienced tattoo artists who are friends of a friend who want to help him out and have him be a guest artist at their shop. I insisted that he wouldn’t go anywhere without me for the week so it’s a decent expense to save for.

I got home, decided it was dreadfully hot, showered again, and then went about the daunted process of extracting my air conditioner. It’s been rolled into a corner for the winter behind plastic sorting drawers full of crafts, my craft table, my chair, and other related things which are extremely close to my bed which is up against an opposite wall. In other words, there is no room to just rearrange. I had to lift things, dismantle the table, sort things, put many things away temporarily, and finally pull the air conditioner to where it could hook up to the outside world. The reward sucks, because despite it’s 9000BTW, it doesn’t help much. If it’s above 93 degrees or so it can’t do anything. It blows out “cooler” air, but the cooler air is like 85 degrees or something, so it doesn’t feel like it’s working when it’s that hot. At 85 degrees or so it works quite well. What a silly machine.

I also removed the curtains the separate the “back” of the attic from my room and put them at the door at the bottom of the attic steps to help heat stay downstairs. Previously I had added foil to the windows and I have two window fans going at all times. I’ve recently starting using my third fan, a big circular one to help bring the fresh air to the bed area. All of these measures make it about five degrees hotter than the second floor instead of twenty degrees hotter, which is of note, but still daunting when I’ve gone to such lengths to make it livable up here.

Anyway, after I did that (and got all sweaty again) I took another shower... And broke the shower. I had no idea that the plumping was so fragile that if I adjusted the shower head too hard that it would disconnect on the other side. Water poured out of the pipe for a moment before I thought to turn it off. The bathtub still worked so I resorted to a bath.

Then my parents and I attended an event at my church. A very good local group called the Blood Thirsty Vegans plays there the first Friday of every month, but I’ve never been before even though I know the lead guy Alex vaguely from other open mics and such.

They played for about an hour and a half and then had an intermission for open mic. I read my poems: Intimacy, then Fire, then Dissatisfied and lastly Rain. Four of my favorites of course. I still like Beyond Reality, but it needs a revision before I read it aloud again. It screams “sixteen years old” in the middle of it even though it starts out so strong.

I danced my heart out tonight, which made me feel really good and alive. I started out with a little shoulder movement and thrusting my heal out to the beat. It quickly evolved into the most elegant arm movements I can muster, the most rhythmic hip movements I can make, the most crazy but intricate and rhythmic feet movements I can make without stumbling, and swishing my damp hair about whenever I saw fit. Being the white girl that I am, and a stereotypical one at that when it comes to dancing it takes a lot of technique for me to muster rhythm. I believe that rhythm is not a “have it or don’t” sort of thing. I don’t naturally have rhythm the way many people do, but I have techniques to keep following the beat.

My first and most important technique is to pick on element of the music to follow to get into it. Once you’re in the zone you won’t need to focus so much, but when I begin I follow one element in the music very closely which is generally the base.

The second technique I have, which is almost as important is my feet. I always try to jerk my foot on every beat that I’m following. Whether it’s a step, a stomp, a tap, or more of an ankle bounce, it’s almost vital to keeping myself in tune. However, once I’m really into it, I can switch my attention from my feet to my shoulders. Thrusting one shoulder forward, or alternating my shoulders on each beat, or thrusting them back, is another way to remind myself of what I’m following.

The third technique I have is to move my entire body in every movement. In order to look animated you can’t have limp hands, or stiff ankles or a ridged back. I utilize this to the fullest possible when focusing on technique one and two. If the song is fast paced enough, and if I have energy enough, and if I’m into it enough I can twist all three of these techniques together and do what many people just do naturally. I can move my shoulders to the in between beat and my feet to the main beat and then thrust my body forward and back, stretching up and bending low while continuing the motions with my feet and shoulders which make my other seemingly-random movements look coordinated.

Dancing has never been easy for me, but I enjoy the freedom of it, and the expression of it. We arrived at 7:00pm and left at 10:00pm. It’s going on 11:00pm now and Crusifer has called me to let me know that he won’t be home until midnight, possibly one o’clock in the morning, but he has no intentions of being longer than that. He’s going to “the park” to chill with “some people” on his lap top while smoking “a couple blunts” and doesn’t expect it to take “until three o’clock in the morning or anything like that.”

I have my doubts as to what will really happen though I imagine his intentions are good. He even warned me earlier that he wanted to go out, and I’ve accepted Fridays and Saturdays as acceptable nights to go out. I’ve accepted him going out once a week as long as it’s one of those nights. I can’t argue when he meets every condition, but none of it settles the feeling I get in the pit of my stomach when he goes out. It doesn’t hurt when he lets me know ahead of time, and my heart doesn’t ache when he follows my conditions, but my stomach never feels quite settled when he’s out when I know he could be home with me.

I’m not letting it dampen my spirits though. I had a good day despite his indecisive moods.

I think I may go read now. I’m on the fourth book of The Bridge of D’Arnath by Carol Berg, which by the way is a phenomenal series of epic adventure, fantasy, vivid sorcery, and deep characters who really portray how layered real people are. I’m becoming a huge fan of Carol Berg and look forward to buying her other series which I can’t remember the name of at the moment.

Thanks for reading. I miss you guys when you don’t comment. Anyone who comes here at all knows my social life is lacking. This is my friend. Writing is my social life. I talk, talk, and talk, but without feedback, it’s not social, it’s just talking to myself – which might make me slightly crazy. Something for you to think about – if you don’t respond, that means I’m talking to myself, which makes me crazy.

Cheers and smiles and love for everyone! Recycle your junk mail, eat more organic food, cut back on your sugar intake, smile to a stranger, give someone special a hug, and write me a detailed comment about yourself and how you can or can’t relate to me, and consider you good deeds done for the day.

No Weed For Me, Thank You

Saturday, May 31st 2008 at 9:42pm

I experience a deep connection with my writing. It’s not a simple connection, but rather, it’s a soul connection. Mort Fertel just explained this to me in the fifth CD of the marriage fitness program. I’ve finally arrived at step four of the marriage fitness plan. Step four is to “save yourself” for your spouse. Save your soul for them, that is.

Mort Fertel explains that you soul is your “I” and your character is your “self.” He explains this by demonstrating statements we make like, “I want to change myself,” and “I like myself” and “I needed to find myself” and “I wonder who I would be if my mother had married a different man.” These statements make your self both the object and subject of the statement. When you make a statement like this, you’re acknowledging that even though your character changes, your “I” does not change. Mort Fertel calls your “I” your soul, and I couldn’t agree more. Even for people who don’t really believe in “souls” this makes a good explanation for what we mean when we say soul.

Mort goes on to talk about your soul’s connection with your spouse. This is the key to making your relationship last he says. And I believe it with all of my heart. The question is: how? How do you connect your soul with your partner’s soul? He gives us four steps. Step one is put your spouse before everything. Before work, before children, before friends, before hobbies, before anything and everything. I already do that for Crusifer, but as I’ve revealed, he does not put me first, he does not even put me second, but rather, he puts me third. This expresses one of the deep disharmonies in our relationship despite all our “compatibility.”

Mort could probably spit on compatibility, though he’d never do it publicly. His entire book is about dropping all your thoughts of compatibility. Stop trying to make yourself compatible for your partner! Stop trying to make them compatible with you! Instead, focus on becoming lovers again. Focus on becoming the soul mates that you were when you met, before the love burned up. Mort speaks truth. He is to relationships and emotional health like Dr. Mark Hyman is to physical health. My two heros. They ought to meet.

The fourth step of the marriage fitness plan is to save your soul and the connection it offers for your spouse. Don’t give it to your sister, your friend, your dog, your hobby, your work, your parents or your children, because while you may love them, you are not their soul mate, and just like they are not first on your priorities, they do not belong in your soul. Your soul-mate belongs in your soul, and only your soul mate. I realize from this that my mother may not leave space for my father in her soul because of the way she connects with me. And my father most certainly doesn’t put my mother first. And while they both give, they don’t give their presence in their presents, and if they do, it’s most certainly not often enough.

I realize now that I connect to my writing with my soul. I write more beautifully and more often when I’m in pain because I’m using my connection to my writing to ease the lack of connection with my soul mate. Writing calms my pain, but it also uses up all of connection that I could be giving to Crusifer. But he doesn’t have time to receive all of my thoughts and all my love and all of my passion. His time and effort and passion is all put into his work. He comes home empty. It makes me feel like crying at just the thought. I want the relationship, and the marriage that Mort prescribes. If I do all of his exercises for several months and can not receive the same love and priority and presence from Crusifer, then I will not be able to marry him, because I have such a clear vision of what I want now.

I want a soul mate, and nothing else with satisfy me.

Sunday, June 1st 2008 at 12:07am

It still feels like Saturday night, even though it’s the very beginning of Sunday morning, according to my digital clock, which reads “am” instead of “pm.” That’s something that never ceases to amuse me. Surely it’s night, and not morning. I’m awake every morning if this is morning. Morning to me is distinctly between sunrise and noon. That time of the day has a very particular feel, especially if you’re outdoors during this time. Midnight feels nothing like what I consider to be morning. Midnight feels distinctly different from the rest of the day as well. I start to feel lazy, though my brain still remains active and alert, if not more active and alert. I love to play video games, write, read and watch TV after midnight. I especially love sex after midnight, being aroused and having sex that is...

Cripes! There is a sore topic with me these days. Sore being just the word to bring up how much I loath the cruel twists of life. I can’t get over what a sick twist of plot my life has when it comes to sex. It drives me insane with grief, anger, stress, guilt, and yearning, all of which to be left unsatisfied.

From age nine – horny, naive, desperate, and depressed. To ten – my early yeast infections, hornier still, just as naive, continual desperation and depression, getting my period, my breasts budding and painful. To eleven – internet sex, inability to orgasm and not understanding why, phone sex, more depression, more desperation, continual suicidal thoughts, beginning to awaken from how naive I was only to be further flushed with how little I knew, and alienation at school at an all time high. Twelve – my first “boyfriend” who was more like a guy I agreed to make out with, touch on and let feel me to appease his curiosity and my ever-growing hunger and lust, with more yeast infections getting worse and more fierce all the time, keeping me from peeing because I was so afraid of the burning blinding pain, even getting a urinary track infection at the same time as a yeast infection, and finally losing my virginity to a six-teen-year-old boy but still never achieving orgasm, not finding love, not finding any satisfaction or happiness, and further alienation from my classmates.

Thirteen – my father gives me a vibrator and I discover the orgasm. The yeast infections continue. My raging hormones continue, but it’s almost a year before I have sex again. I meet Jeremy though it takes me a long time to fall in love with him. I sneak out of my house for sex, and I once let a random guy pick me up, which turned out to be a mistake but I escaped with nothing damaged but my dignity. Depression still loomed, and the press for love, for companionship, for sex only getting heavier and harder to bear.

Fourteen – madly in love with Jeremy I strive to make myself a better girl for him. But I was still wild with hormones, and instead of just making love to Jeremy I flirted all over the place because I didn’t know how to contain myself. I was less depressed at fourteen for the most part, until the fire. More yeast infections, and they came around at all the worst times year after year, especially during vacations. They stopped “just” burning, and starting burning and itching at this point. I couldn’t achieve an orgasm during sex, but I enjoyed it none the less. I still was yearning for something though, and nothing could explain what.

Fifteen – Jeremy leaves me, and I’m left heartbroken. I become more depressed than I’ve ever been. I become genuinely suicidal, I did more than just think about it. I was livid with my lust for escape the constant ache in my heart. Anything to save me and I would take it. Travanti was the first thing that came along that I deemed a suitable escape. At first I treated him like just an escape, and his rescue transformed into love.

Sixteen – I finally find orgasms during sex with Tre, but then he turns out to be a gangster. He turns out to not be the person I thought I was going out with at all. He turns out to be violent, and constantly so. A modern version of a beginner ninja with way more knowledge than a boy six months younger than me ought to have. He’s scary, and I couldn’t leave him sometimes when I wanted to from fear. I was abused verbally constantly and mildly physically as well. My emotional state completely fell apart. Ironically I think I had the least infections during my relationship with him, but then again, I might have had the least sex. My fear of him, and often my anger with him, or disappointment or depression and in the end my resentfulness and distantness caused me little desire for sex with him. Though I had smoked weed a bit and drank a bit from the age of fourteen, at sixteen I did it on a weekly basis at first, and then a daily basis. (The weed daily, and drinking weekly or so.)

Seventeen – My senses numb to Tre. My heart seals it self off. I leave my second love, my second two-year relationship. I feel elated for a short time with my new found freedom. I meet Crusifer, and after a few times of making love I think I’ve caught an STD. I have the worst yeast infection to date. It lasted the longest, was the ugliest, was the most painful, etc. I saw the doctors about it, and they reported me clean. Not only of STDs, but also of a yeast infection. They didn’t know what was wrong.

Eighteen – Madly in love with Crusifer we have the best sex I’ve ever had – passionate and loving. I orgasm nonstop, and unlike the orgasms I had with Tre they are really fulfilling. I quit weed and shortly thereafter quit drinking. My health improves, I loose weight, five pounds at first, then ten, then twenty, and then thirty total after a year since my diet and lifestyle changes. The only catch? The mystery pussy problems. My continual yeast infections switch from burning when I pee to itching so terrible it keeps me from doing anything. In addition I get a new sensation during my period that makes the inside walls scratchy and painful to touch.

Nineteen – The infections continue at an increased rate. Instead of one or two a year, I’m getting infections every two or three months. The period pain extends to all the time. The spot that causes pleasure is often dead to me. I go off birth control hoping it will help; which made my breasts stop swelling and hurting but everything else continued. My relationship with Crusifer is the best I’ve ever had, and yet, and yet, I’m still seeking that soul mate in him, in my relationship. I’m seeking continual and strong love. Now I know what I’m after at least. But of all things, I finally have a horny and passionate man, but my infection rate has skyrocketed and on top of that my sex drive has vanished. I find it terribly difficult to become aroused. I’ve practically forgotten what it feels like.

Fantasies surely are playing a joke on me. I no longer fantasize about anyone but Crusifer, which is fine of course, but nothing I conjure in my mind really arouses me. Thinking of Crusifer makes me feel warm and fuzzy, but it doesn’t make me want sex. Nothing seems to make me really want it. Candle light helps. Being nude helps. Being affectionate and receiving affection helps a lot. But I think what it would really take for me to experience really being horny again is for Crusifer to touch me specifically for the purpose of arousing me. For some reason he doesn’t like to do this. I think talking about sexual things would help a lot too. We used to do that all the time, the infections seemed to have killed that sort of conversation, that in addition to my sudden jealousy of other women.

Thinking about sex makes me miserable, and perhaps that’s why I don’t get aroused anymore. All I can think about is all the problems sex has caused me. It’s driven me to madness when I was very young. The plagues of infection. And the quest for orgasm. The disappointment when I’m unable to please my partner, which seems to be always. Of course I can please him, when I don’t have a damnable infection! It’s so bloody frustrating! And why does having sex during my period feel like having sex with fire as a lubricant now? It never used to, but now it always does. How is that logical?

I want to be horny again. I want my pussy to stop hurting. I want to have sex with Crusifer! I want to please him. I want to feel that intimacy. I feel like shit. I’m nine-fucking-teen, and this is just blazing ridiculous and preposterous! I hardly have a good word for how much it outrages me!

I feel like no one understands, after all, who do you know who gets infections that are not STDs but are not yeast infections? Anybody? If you do, please tell me what they do to remain sane.

Sunday, June 1st 2008 at 1:57am

Two in the morning. This doesn’t surprise me. Crusifer said he might go out tonight. I have already pre-consented to all Fridays and Saturdays. It’s just that he won’t answer my phone calls. This worries me. And after how distant he was this morning... And how long it’s been since we’ve had sex... I feel like my relationship with him is on this rocky road of issues and struggles, and like I keep getting my foot stuck in a crack of the rocks, or stumbling, or even falling and hurting myself, and then thinking I’m alright again... But never quite losing that uneasy feeling anymore, like I’m always balancing on one of these frustrating rocks.

I wish he was here. I feel so distant from him that I’m starting to really ache.

Sunday, June 1st 2008 at 3:00am

It’s taking all my will not to be angry with him. No phone call to confirm he was going out or anything. And he can’t just pull that classic “my phone is dead” because other people have phones. He can’t honestly say that wherever he is there are no phones. My most serious concerns are for the fact that he has his lap top with him and his paycheck, but more importantly I worry about what he might be doing. I pray he’s not drinking, but I fear for it badly.

I’m afraid that if he drinks again after writing that letter... I’m afraid that it would be the end of us. How could I forgive him for it now? I don’t know if I could forgive it again.

I’m so dreadfully lonely. I’m kinda tired too, but I don’t feel like sleeping much. I watched some music videos and the end of some movie.

Writing makes great company when I can think of things worth writing. It’s not such a great companion when I just feel empty. Not even so much a painful empty. Just empty. I could read, and I like reading, and I like the series I’m reading, so it’s not a bad option... It’s just that... I feel this tingling at the end of my emptiness striving me to feel something more. Perhaps 90% empty... 1% sad, 2% worried, 1% hopeful, 2% anxious, 1% tired and 3% lonely... *sigh*

Sunday, June 1st 2008 at 5:00am

When I was little. Something about something... It has driven me to type. Oh, what a gastly action is... This writing I’m doing. It’s so blazin hard to remember what the damn hell I am typing about... I fell like I’m makin such a racket. My hair appears to be drawn in brown hatches... Brushed from my face reveals a more painting version of my bangs.

Clearly I’m mad... Insane that is. Not out of my mind per say, but perhaps bent and twisted round yonder. I have to pee... My feet are so cold that I’m reluctant to touch their bareness to the cold floor. My heal jammed under me to keep it warm. I am listening to the birds, the way I never do when sober.

Seems a different sort of trip. The time when I can write. I have never written this way I believe, that waraboats are unknown. Shit, I seem to be losing my spelling.

I am frozen. The birds grow loud and I struggle to figure out how to spell words. My eyelids are growing so blasted heavy. This surely isn’t my tree self.

I explained something deep earlier. No I mean deep, this isn’t a delusion. I know it was deep, but unfortunately I don’t quite comprehend what I’m doing. Oddly, sounds like tears. Can’t be tears can it? Why is it so quiet other than? Could he really be making no other noise? Is my keyboard that loud? I feel stupid. I am stupid.

Sunday, June 1st 2008 at 4:35pm

He’s gone off to his mother’s house. I’m torn between wanting to be there and “good riddance” to it. My head is still throbbing from all the times I banged into the wall and floor. I can’t believe it’s almost five o’clock, but then again, I can believe it since I was awake until nine o’clock in the morning.

I became very desperate. I have not felt that desperate in a long time. As I’ve said before, Crusifer is nothing like Tre, and yet this relationship is on a sure path of making me feel the exact same way. We’re going to try again... But my faith is draining, if not drained.

As Isadora said, after a marriage of desperation that didn’t work, and a dead marriage that didn’t work, and then a marriage of two separated souls united didn’t work... Who is to say that any marriage will work? Then she goes on to say that only those who are so deeply romantic can become so deeply cynical about love.

Crusifer,

I’m tempted to call you right now. I keep thinking about it. I keep running my fingers over the buttons. You’re probably engaged in a conversation though. You’ll probably ignore my call and I can’t take the pain of feeling ignored right now.

I’m sorry to ruin last night and today. I’m sorry to be so blithe in my tears. I’ve gotten so desperate that I’m losing myself. This feeling that I have now is what I have been afraid of since I met you...

Can we figure this out... Together? If not with you, then not at all.

I seem to have lost some sense of myself. All I can think is that I have to act. I have to do something. I have to say something... I want to say that you don’t know how I feel, but maybe you do...

Mort says to accept the good and the bad. The Cav and the Crusifer. Rachel and Laya. There is no other way, and there is no escape... But I fear for you. I feel like you do have a problem, and I want to help, but I feel shut out. I feel useless. I feel and feel and feel... Until I feel like bursting.

I’ve been thinking I should use my writing as a way to connect to Crusifer by writing all of my entries to him... Maybe it will help, maybe not. Who knows if I can even do it.

Angel writes me:

First off I would LOVE to come and visit you sometime but you’re so far away and well my parents probably wouldn’t approve of me going across the state alone. But I did ask my mother and she sort of gave me an “okay” answer. I’m guessing that I’ll have to fly there so I’m wondering how much the ticket would cost…. I promise I will come and see you one day though! I LOVE the idea of us two cooking some tasty organic foods! I also want to see this oh-so famous Buffalo place though it probably looks the same way as it does here. But like I stated, I will come and see you so we can tour everywhere and have fun. I’ve been wanting to meet you for awhile now because honestly you’re the coolest, most amazing and of course most intelligent person ever. I know that’s a lot to say about someone who you hardly know but that’s how I truly think of you. =]] Oh yeah and I don’t think you’d want to come down here. There’s nothing attention-grabbing about this reservation. All I do is stay home with my mother all day because everything else that people do is not “my thing.” Trust me, you’d be bored. I want to meet your family too.

Wow Buffalo sounds like a HUGE place. A million people??? Wow, here’s only less than a thousand! I don’t think it’s even a thousand; it’s probably only about 700. Yeah, it’s so puny. Here’s a sad fact: did you know that parents are so careless these days (from here at least) that the youngest drop-out I’ve known was a kindergarten student! That’s not a lie. His family is drug users/sellers so I’m guessing that’s why they don’t care about anything. Their only daughter used to keep the house clean and everything but now she’s into drugs so she just goes out and parties like her parents.

I love the fact that people are making an effort to at least try to ‘save’ Buffalo. I lecture every one of my younger online friends and they listen. My friend told me its okay to lecture her because her parents never preach to her so she thinks it would be a great idea. I’d love to make a change in the world and even though I can’t make a global change I can always make small changes right? Besides, small changes can lead to big differences.

It’s tough for me to find gluten-free food here. There’s this cooking class that they invented over at Mesa which is about 100 miles away from me so I can’t go there but I’d love to. They cook up all kinds of natural meals and when I saw it on TV I automatically wanted to go but of course I can’t. Yeah I made lima beans and I loved it. I probably cooked them for an hour; it was taking forever! Ha but it was so worth it. Hmm, I never tried butter with them, maybe next time.

I would love to discuss our religious beliefs in person as well. I have wanted to read the entire Bible for so long now but every time I try, I lose my focus. So, now I’m waiting for the “right” time but sometimes I fear that I’ll be too late.

School ended for me on May 20. I took the finals and hopefully I did well on them. I never did well in my Economics class. I hope I pass because I don’t want to be a sophomore again. I am taking summer school though so I can earn extra credits for next year. I am taking these online classes again next year so I get to keep my laptop. I may do this for another semester and then return to my previous school even though I don't want to. I've been trying to convince my parents about sending me off to California next year because there's this boarding school that takes place there for Natives. :]

I write Angel:

Angel,

Clearly if I came out to where you live I wouldn’t be coming to see the reservation, I’d be coming to see you! I’ve been a lot of places all over America and in terms of what they look like and what there is to do, it’s really all the same. I mean, sure, if you’re on a beach, you can swim. If you’re on a mountain, you can climb. But there are beaches and mountains everywhere. (Obviously my point is not that there are beaches and mountains, but that there is everything everywhere if you know where to look.)

The things that are really unique is the individuals you meet along the way. The same place can be very different in atmosphere depending on who you have with you. Like sometimes your home is a prison, and sometimes it’s a safe house. We have a reservation here too, which I’ve been to a couple times. You might find it interesting to see the one we have here in comparison to your own back home.

I feel like you’re my long lost sister. Every time I write to you I feel like it’s been too long since I wrote you last, and too long until I finally meet you, and always nagging me is the feeling that I’m going to lose you, even though I never “had” you per say, if you know what I mean? Everyone I care about except my parents has always drifted away, and I always felt like that was completely out of my control.

For example, there is this girl Marie, and she used to comment on my journal often enough. I met her in California before she moved. We sent each other Christmas presents, and we wrote each other a couple letters. She was amazing in person, and since we were both bi we were all over each other. I really liked her, but I feel like I’ll never see her again – not that I couldn’t invite myself to her new place in Chicago, not that I couldn’t go see ger again, but I feel like I didn’t make the same sort of impression on her that she did on me. I feel unimportant to her, and like nothing could ever change that. Like at some point I felt like I was a special friend of hers, and now I feel like a very distant acquaintance.

But even with Marie... I hate being so mushy sometimes, but... Even with Marie I didn’t feel this sort of connection I feel with you. Like we’re on the same wave length or something, like your chakra connects directly to mine or something... Do you see where I’m coming from, or have I jumped off the deep end?

Perhaps all these things I’m writing and feeling right now are a direct result of the unfortunate events in my relationship... Because I’m scared of losing my relationship with him, perhaps that is turning into general fear of loss? That would make sense. So perhaps that’s why I feel this urgent compelling feeling that is telling me I need to meet you now, like if I didn’t, you’d disappear. Or perhaps it’s because I always felt like Crusifer was the only other person really like me, but I have this suspicion you might be “like me” too, which would mean that perhaps I don’t have to cling so tightly to his existence to prove that I have a right to be and feel how I am.
It’s certainly not a magical place here. It’s just that there is so much variety. That’s what makes this place special to some people. Those who move away and come back say there is something pulling them here that they can’t escape, and usually they can’t explain what it is. Perhaps it’s just that other places seem to uniform by comparison. Buffalo is like a myriad of different opinions, races, cultures and ideas all mushed together in a several mile radius.

Angel writes me:

Hey Atara,

I know that I wrote you an e-mail but I have something on my mind and I just feel like I can tell you anything... So, you know that my ex asked me for another chance?? I feel stupid for even thinking about it.... I don't know why I am considering it. I know what homeboy did was wrong but yet it's like I cannot bring myself to accept that.... He talks about how he changed and that he's a different person. I don't believe him... This e-mail is pointless but... I just need to vent. I don't know, can you tell me not to go back to him? I know that sounds strange but it's like you're the only person who I'll listen to or something....... I know that I won't go back to him but it's my thoughts that think differently. He won't change right? Once a cheater, always a cheater... That's what my friend told me.... He makes me hate myself......... I just feel plain stupid and ......... like i'm paranoid or something :/

I write Angel:

Angel,

Did you know I cheated before? I think it’s different for men, but then again, it also depends on the man. And generally, no, people don’t change much. But they do change in some ways.

For one thing, if he makes you hate yourself, then that’s not love. Loving someone makes you love yourself and everyone much more than you normally would if you were not in love. And there is no point in going to an ex you’ve already been with unless you truly believe that you love them and that they love you.

However, sometimes giving things another shot can help align your feelings. Right now, you’re not sure, but if you “gave him another chance” for like a week or so, he’d either hurt you again and you’d be much more sure of your conviction that he’s an ex for a reason, or you’d discover that he’d change. I think that the key here is not to put your heart in the hands that have crushed it before, unless of course, you’re completely convinced that those hands have genuinely changed.

Another trick in all of this is how much someone has really changed. Their perspective might change without really changing their actions. For example, he might decide that you’re a great girl and that he really would like to be with you. In his mind, that may very well be the truth. However, that might not keep him from cheating on you, because perhaps he doesn’t understand deeply enough that you don’t cheat on someone you’re trying to be serious with. It’s possible he has self control issues. Simply deciding that he’s sorry and that like does want you after all would not change his self control issues, or his judgement issues, or whatever issues he may or may not have.

It’s hard to accept that someone you were obsessed with, or in love with wasn’t as crazy about you as you were about them. It’s even harder to accept when they talk as though they are just as crazy about you but then act in ways you know someone who loved you wouldn’t act. That’s what I’m going through right now. Crusifer tells me he’s nuts about me and that I’m very important to him, and yet he doesn’t call me when he goes out late, and sometimes he ignores me when I cry. Does that sound like someone who is nuts about me? He’s in constant contradiction... I don’t know what to do because I’m so in love that detaching myself is more painful than living with the problems we have. It’s a difficult situation, and it’s also a paradox.

You see, if I held back from loving Crusifer then he would feel me holding back, so he would hold back, and if we both hold back we won’t stay in love very long if at all and we’ll break up. If I don’t hold back anything and throw myself completely into the relationship and invest all of time, energy and other resources on expressing and maintaining my love for him then I’ll be brutally wounded if he leaves me or shows that he doesn’t feel the same way. That’s the paradox we’re in. He’s afraid to throw everything in, and I resent him for not throwing in everything when I have. I resent him holding back from me.

The chances are that this boy you were with will never give you a good relationship. Even if he’s capable of giving you a good relationship, he probably won’t anyway, at least not for you. If he was willing to hurt you like that before then that shows a lack of compassion and respect for you as a person and as a soul. For him to act like a different man he has to have that respect and compassion and love for you, and because he hasn’t in the past, he probably won’t in the future. The only real flipside is that trying things out is the only way to sort out how you really feel sometimes. If you need to be sure, try it out for a while.

December Blues

Sunday the 23rd of December, 2007.

It is 1:44pm at the moment.

"If you were in my shoes, you’d be thinking the same way, man," he says to me as he walks down the stairs to let El in so they can smoke a blunt.

Heh, really? Not at all. Not at all. If I had to work fifty to sixty hours a week I’d never want to go out. I just spent all that time out. Being at work, at the store and at somebody’s house is all the same to me. It’s all out as far as I’m concerned.

Why is it so odd that I’d like to spend all of my free time with him? Why is it so odd that I don’t want to party? Why is that so fucking unacceptable? Then again, why is it unacceptable to me that he wants to go out once a week or so?

It’s not that I’d mind that, if he worked... Let’s say, 10:00am to 5:00pm, Mon-Fri. Sure, then go out Friday night, and have some people over half the day on Sunday. But for him to take his entire, and only day off, and leave me alone... That is unacceptable.

I fucking proposed to him. I thought that he’d suddenly realize that I’m serious, that I want him and only him. He doesn’t seem to get it. Or perhaps he just doesn’t care that I’m dying of loneliness when he leaves me to be with a bunch of degenerates who stand around drinking soda, beer, and vodka or whatever. Yeah, let’s go hang out with a bunch of cigarette smoke. That is just dandy.

I don’t want to have a headache, be bored, still be lonely, and have to watch My boyfriend acting like he’s one of them. Damn. But it’s not an act is it? On some level, he is, isn’t he? Why can’t I just not care? Why can’t I just carry on with my bull shit when he’s not here? Why is playing a game, writing my novel, cleaning, eating... Why is everything so difficult when I know he could be home with me at the moment?

El and Ivan are here again. I don’t really know Ivan that well, but I suppose I will over time, eh? They’re playing Death Metal, which doesn’t really bother me, at least not at first. But once they start, they tend to never stop...

*sigh* I don’t even get what I’m doing wrong half the time. Perhaps there is nothing to be done about all of this. Perhaps My boyfriend just is a party person, and maybe I’m just not. And maybe I just have to deal with it or leave him, eh? Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

They’re smoking a blunt. *sigh* They’ve been here for almost an hour already. What to say? What to do? I’m scanning My boyfriend’s art at the moment. Something I’ve been putting off for too long.

It’s not really that bad to have El over and such, it’s just that it’s always for too long, and usually at some point or another they start playing gangster rap, and usually at some point or another My boyfriend ends up leaving for "a few minutes" which turns out to be forever. But I’m really hoping that is not the case today.

Sunday the 23rd of December, 2007.

It is 6:42pm at the moment.

Thankfully, with a little luck, El and Ivan got out of here after being here for two and a half hours. The luck being that my Dad returned with the car sooner than I expected, and My boyfriend wanted to go to Best Buy to get this new 500Gig External Hard-drive that was on sale. So we dropped El and Ivan off at Ivan’s house, or wherever they were going to on Auburn street. It was practically on the way anyway.

We browsed at Best Buy after picking out the hard drive; looking at the digital cameras and the digital video cameras. I picked out which video camera I’d want if I were to buy one – $1000, and it had a 60Gig Hard-drive built-in, good zoom, flip out screen of course, sleek black... I’d never get a video camera again though without first finding out about how good it was at adjusting to movement and lighting. The bull-shit two I’ve had before both were terrible with movement and lighting, especially when both were an issue at once. You’d end up with a blur of nothingness.

Then we went to the Wegmands that is near Best Buy. Not the one that is on Amherst – so it was a much bigger grocery store, including a two large buffets and such. He got a sub, I picked out a bunch of things from the buffet. I picked up three packages of Rice Crisps from the Organic section.

Then we drove home in the already-dark, rainy, cold. Must have been just 33 degrees since it was switching from rain to snow to rain again. Keeping the window’s cracked to keep the windshield from fogging up since the heater in the car only works sporadically.

Now we’re finally home again and My boyfriend is questioning if he can go to some party. I don’t know what to make of that. Why? Like, as far as I’m concerned, there has been commotion all day – from Ivan and El, to being out and about. Now we’re home and he wants to be out. What’s so good about being out? I don’t get that.

Weather, bad smells (like cigarettes), noise, ignorant people, drama, drunks, gangs, lack of places to sit or be comfortable, constricting clothing, a heavy bag (or purse in my case), people who you have to figure out what you can and can’t say to. It’s a pain. When here, it’s quiet, it’s peaceful. Nothing ignorant being said, no smoke in the air, no drama. I can be comfortable, I can be as clothed or unclothed as I want. I don’t have to worry about thieves or where I left my stuff at. No bulky coat. And I can say anything I want to say. I don’t have to worry about the cold. What does he want from going out? What is out there that he can’t have here? I just don’t get it.