Second entry of the day.
Neil is online now. I usually have an idea of when heíll be around and can hunt him down, if necessary.
I havenít spoken to him. Last week, he emailed to wish me a happy birthday. I thanked him but didnít leave an opening for much of a reply, unless a person really wanted to reply.
Strange. Since I tend to believe that he only does things for selfish reasons, I thought there would be a reason for him to email me on my birthday. That made me curious, but then when he didnít take the opportunity to expose his true agenda, that confused me a bit.
Maybe it was just a thoughtful gesture, after all.
Because itís Friday night, and I donít have much else to do, Iím letting thoughts race through my head. I always come up with crazy and depressing things on nights like this. I could just go out and do something, but sometimes, I would rather just mope around the house.
I feel like I have a broken heart lurking down in my subconscious somewhere. Iím like that. Iíll hide things from myself. Thank god for meditation.
If my good, nice friends knew I was considering talking to him, theyíd tell me that was stupid and not to do it. I donít know what excuse I have, except that Iíd like to know that heís happy. Thatís so unlikely, though. That worries me. If heís happy, then I can happily go on with my life. If heís not, then I have the desire to try and make him happy.
Heís chronically unhappy, and this misery of his has an insatiable craving for those around him to be just as unhappy. This is what I think now. At the time, I think I only knew that if I kept trying, that effort would destroy any chance of either of us being happy, as long as we were together.
Iím not all that resilient. Not in an emotional sense. Iíll bounce back to some degree, but obviously not very well. Of course, thereís time. Iím only 31 now, and I expect to live to at least 125.
I have too much desire to avoid making certain mistakes again. So much desire to avoid certain mistakes, Iíd rather not do anything at all, than try again.
It was so much easier to devote myself to someone unattainable than to participate in real life. It still is.
I donít know if thatís it, either. I gave up on mr crush. The phenomenon still concerns me. I donít know how to look at it. I guess rationally speaking, I can only call it temporary insanity.
Emotionally speaking, it was something else. I wasnít unhappy at the time. I was starting to become quite satisfied with myself. However, it almost had the same sensation as a cool breeze and drink of water in the middle of the Sahara. Maybe I should say Death Valley, since thatís somewhere Iíve actually been.
Itís taken me nearly a year of concentrated effort (granted, I really donít see him all that often) for me to remember what he looks like. Iím so overwhelmed by something else when I see him that I canít even see him.
Outside of something supernatural, my only other conclusion is that I chose this for a reason. My subconscious went through a great effort to brain wash me. If thatís the case, I donít know why.
Was I really that heartbroken over Neil that I had to hide it from myself and then transfer my affections to some stranger?
I have trouble believing that. By the time I met him, I was starting to discover what it is to be truly at peace with oneself. After I discovered what it was like to be at peace with myself, I discovered something else: It takes great effort to maintain.
Or maybe thatís only the case when youíre new at it, and youíre still learning it. That was my experience, anyway. I learned that if you meditate with one eye on a boy, you donít get much meditating done. That should be a fortune cookie.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. Lots of thinking, thinking, thinking, for 31 years, and I still donít have any answers.
|Friday, Aug. 03, 2007 at 10:28 PM|