Go, get married.
I want to not care. I want to walk away and never look back. I want the curiosity to diminish and the memories to grow faint. I want to cut the ties. I have no expectations, only those of hurt and disillusion. My only expectation is that he will never really go away, that no matter what I do someday I will turn the corner on the street and he will be there. I’m scared that when that does happen, everything will crumble and I will still love him.
I wish I was indifferent. I worry that I never will be. Sadly, I know unconditional love too well. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes I am relieved to know it hasn’t been lost. That corner of my heart that loves forever is still beating, still feeling. Even when the numbness spreads and freezes my tears behind my eyes, it lives. I love. It took me three years to recover from The Artist. I know I cannot force nine years of turmoil and attachment to evaporate in nine months. Yet, I try.
Nothing about him is good for me. We will never be together, always apart, always casually tugging on the past. I don’t want it. He has nothing to offer me, and though I do love him, I know part of me will always love him. I don’t want this masochistic thread to continue. Let me walk away. I hate knowing that casual messages will always come through my sister. I hate knowing he still tries to contact me, not in reality, but just detached enough to ensure I’m still there.
I don’t know what he wants from me. I don’t know that he cares for me. I don’t believe he loves me. I believe he is comfortable in knowing I am there. I know the choice was made. I know when the door was open, he chose. (He did not choose us) We are nothing. There is no future, and the past is littered with disrespect and diversions.
I’m not going to lie, pretend, or fake it. I care. I am still hurt and angry. I’m not surprised, but I am disappointed. I am disappointed in myself for loving you. I am disappointed in myself for ever hoping that you felt the same. I’m angry at myself for failing to forget, for allowing my thoughts to linger, for every moment I am reminded of you. I am smarter than this, and I know you have nothing positive to offer me.
Maverick, Go! Get married. You don’t need my forgiveness, blessing or permission. We are nothing. We are not friends, not lovers, not companions. You can’t know me anymore. I don’t want you to know me.
I wish I was indifferent. I worry that I never will be. Sadly, I know unconditional love too well. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes I am relieved to know it hasn’t been lost. That corner of my heart that loves forever is still beating, still feeling. Even when the numbness spreads and freezes my tears behind my eyes, it lives. I love. It took me three years to recover from The Artist. I know I cannot force nine years of turmoil and attachment to evaporate in nine months. Yet, I try.
Nothing about him is good for me. We will never be together, always apart, always casually tugging on the past. I don’t want it. He has nothing to offer me, and though I do love him, I know part of me will always love him. I don’t want this masochistic thread to continue. Let me walk away. I hate knowing that casual messages will always come through my sister. I hate knowing he still tries to contact me, not in reality, but just detached enough to ensure I’m still there.
I don’t know what he wants from me. I don’t know that he cares for me. I don’t believe he loves me. I believe he is comfortable in knowing I am there. I know the choice was made. I know when the door was open, he chose. (He did not choose us) We are nothing. There is no future, and the past is littered with disrespect and diversions.
I’m not going to lie, pretend, or fake it. I care. I am still hurt and angry. I’m not surprised, but I am disappointed. I am disappointed in myself for loving you. I am disappointed in myself for ever hoping that you felt the same. I’m angry at myself for failing to forget, for allowing my thoughts to linger, for every moment I am reminded of you. I am smarter than this, and I know you have nothing positive to offer me.
Maverick, Go! Get married. You don’t need my forgiveness, blessing or permission. We are nothing. We are not friends, not lovers, not companions. You can’t know me anymore. I don’t want you to know me.
posted by Ryann @ 10:05
6 Comments:
At 9:51 PM,
Kathryn said…
I'm sorry that you're having a hard time. I hope that you will find peace and be able to move on very soon.
At 9:48 AM,
Anonymous said…
It's rough, and the discrimination and pressure put on single people is disgusting, child and marriage benefits, what about single dog masters/pet masters? Or just single people with a car and a condo to take care of? Why not just less taxes for all regardless of family status? -- Gölök Zoltán Leenderdt Franco Buday; Artist, et al....
At 9:56 AM,
Anonymous said…
Oh recovering straight girl, a question, how the hell does someone fuck to the point of having three kids and suddenly in midlife or close to it, say, "oh I am a dyke now," paaaalease, sounds like someone wants someone to feel like he drove her to it. -- Gölök Zoltán Leenderdt Franco Buday
At 11:28 AM,
Anonymous said…
thank you Jimbo, you took the words out of my mouth.
golok, this is a friendly environment. hate WILL NOT be tolerated. I don't give a fuck who you are, on my blog you WILL treat everyone with respect. I'm sure RSG struggled with her choices, and found the courage to be true to herself. I'm proud of her.
you will notice no one has bitched at you for being a disillusioned peeler addict
ryann rain
At 7:44 PM,
Kathryn said…
Well, gosh, I've never been flamed on someone elses blog, this is a first.
I certainly won't give Golok the satisfaction of addressing his question, OR visiting his blog. I have no time for negative people.
Sorry about the trash on your blog Ryann.
At 7:50 AM,
Anonymous said…
Jimbo: Well the Semi-Blog entry, was done in good humor and was thrown back at me by BC Report's Terry O'Neil because he had no sense of humor. Perhaps Jimbo is he; did you read the full article on the web site? I have a "Get a Room" policy, oh and "recovering," has a closed commentary, a google stooge maybe. Join or else. I had a question, from someone who does not peep in nor support the peeping in other's people's windows, has a "get a room" police. and hates THE ACTION< of forcing the window in my face. All I had was a question for her, sure fascitious in many way, but it beats being a humourless facsist. -- Gölök Zoltán Leenderdt Franco Buday<.
Your judging bye the way: "What's with the constant hatred?" {Rhetorica} -- "Clearly she thought she had what she wanted, then found that love with another woman could fulfill her more so."
To speak nothing of the Michael Moore comment.
Your like the Anarchist scaring Libertarians from admitting their libertarians. Oh and spell my name right, character map or alt(hold)-0246 & copy/paste isn't hard. It's not Golok (except with anglo-saxonite documents) it's Gölök.
What do you specifically consider hate? You don't even offer questions of my question or views.
Beware those who are intolerant of speech, for they are the book burners.
Post a Comment
<< Home