I just got a pang of fear starting to write this. Odd. It was one of those that starts in your sternam.
It's about rejection and abandonment and judgement.
Have I already told you that you broke through? that you hurt me and you have caused a well of doubt that was well-hidden to surface? If so, sorry. I'm a bit repetive and sensitive and lost and all those other things I bitch about.
Whenever Mark and I have a discussion or bicker, he will always claim that I do or have said the same thing I'm bitching at him about doing. I usually roll my eyes or claim it's not the same thing at all. But 'tis something I've found to be true: the thing that irritates you the most in others is something true about yourself.
Make a pearl. Make a pearl.
I was thinking about my contradictions yesterday. I've been dwelling on how I call myself magical and serene but at times I feel like detritus... alone. It's nice to have a lift from the fog of punishing myself.
Yet, mark feels these things I feel. Others feel the lostness the wondering what big ole continuous cycles have in store. Me? I believe I want recognition from chosen few and complicated friendships and simple friendships and complex grifting. But this could all change.
I willingly and tearfully left the only home I'd known in shame. I was and likely still am looked on as a pariah and a fucked-up crazy person. The only reason I was given slack was because of Mark. His sponsorship of me made the others hold it in a bit and give me a benefit.
Of course, one of my problems is that I lean on the mark side. I allow him to be in front and shield me. I defer to him. I am protected. This has been a crutch.
You've heard this all before. I've said it all before. No one can help me but myself. Move dammit move. As DJ so eloquently said: how can you move without a goal? or a stimulent or away from a failure or a crash.
It ebbs and flows. It's dark and light. North and South. East and West.
I just want to be happy. I can't be happy without plucking away from everything I know and love? Why is this? Why do I have to be alone? Sure, I understand the people that hate me on sight. I am used to them of course - it's what happens when you don't suffer fools or phonies - or when you're too judgemental and also when you cut the bullshit too quickly.
I am not black or white. I am not a bad or good writer. I am not a saint or a monster. I am not your friend or your enemy. Look at me.
I just want to be happy. I want to believe I can be happy. I want it like I want it and it sucks that it hasn't happened yet... and it's not a bad thing that I'm sad and that I'm usually sad. Tons of pain and fear and lack of trust.