Movie Night

Do you think it's possible to be in love with someone, and not want to be with them?

At the same time?

Genuinely and truly?

How can this ambivalence be possible?

Well, anything is fucking possible, but everything is still impossible.

I'm not sure what I mean by that, but it's not just a note of despair. I mean that anything is fucking possible when it's just happening to you, but everything is still impossible when I am actively participating.

So, it's a more PRONOUNCED note of despair.

I've discovered Netflix Watch Instantly, so I've been watching these terrible quote "Cerebral Foreign Dramas" and quote "Romances Featuring a Strong Female Lead", and these people in love are always longing for each other's embraces and imagining futures together and praying, praying, praying that that bitch would just disappear.

But I don't think that's it. Because all of these things send a sharp pang of fucking fear up my spine. Not a twinge, a pang, it lasts a while, but it's worse than the usual quakes I've always had. A gaze will stop my heart, only because I want to stop myself from seeing it. I want to run so fucking far in the opposite direction, I'm starting to imagine a small voice screaming somewhere in the back of my mind whenever he's present. And as for that bitch? Like her where she is. As long as she's around I will not ever, ever, ever end up in bed with him.

Does this coincide with my actions?

Well, no.

Because

more than anything I feel like I have to bear my teeth. Put on a mean face. Or at least a brave one.

Because I still care what he thinks.
And I don't really care about anyone else's opinions.

The other night he sent me into this completely blind frenzied RAGE because he looked at me for too long. Wasn't a big enough deal. I was drunk and couldn't do what I usually do, keep it in my periphery but pretend not to notice. I was too drunk for that, so I yelled, and then I kind of slapped the shit out of him. Really hard, too.

I haven't recovered from this. And of course, my kicking his ass is just a point in his corner.

Anyway, also in these movies, the smitten characters (though mostly men) are able to fill the vacancies of their beloved, if only for a fleeting 3.5 minutes, like with whores or their co-workers or people they pick up in bars.

Here's another delineation. Everyone repulses me. Can't look at them.

I don't even really feel lonely. In fact, right now I'm feeling like there are almost too many people around. And like I'm involved in too many lives. I guess I can let them distract me, and I do when I have to, but I don't really feel like burying myself in anything else.

I'm burying too much.

I think what's really driving me to distraction is the fact that he was the bravest thing I've ever done, and now that it's over I'm back to being a huge pussy.

That's what's really depressing me, not having to watch them dry hump not ten feet away from me.

Though it doesn't exactly help.

Also, I've been listening to too much Fiona Apple, and she just sets me off into crazy.

But Jesus, how does one stop listening to Fiona Apple? That sounds even more impossible than getting over him, or trying to quit smoking,

so I'm just not going to do any of those things.

Not yet.

Need to keep writing regularly, or I'll end up talking about it too much, and people will suspect things. I don't want anyone to know. As far as everyone knows, I am not in love. Though it's still true that I don't want to be with him. So none of it matters and it shouldn't make any difference.

I'll do my homework, though, really.

And watch movies.

It's not love, it's

Stockholm Syndrome!

Right?

Right?!

Now to search the internet for "Treatment of Stockholm Syndrome",

"Prescription Drugs used to treat Stockholm Syndrome",

"Street Drugs used to treat Stockholm Syndrome".

Facebook, I quit you.

I enjoy staying at home. Where, currently, the only 2 decisions I'm making are whether to light another cigarette, and then, which ashtray to ash into.

I hope reading this blog will be amusing to me someday in the future, when I'm less of a miserable human being.

I really am an optimist at heart. But in my current situation, or, since I've gotten into this post-adolescent, soon to be post-graduate funk I've dug myself into, everything fails me.

Am I being too critical of myself or of others?

I can't commit to small tasks unless it is to avoid people in my life. Kate gets home from work, let me do the dishes. My dad's calling. Maybe I should miss his call and then will myself to send an important email, order textbooks, figure out what exactly is the meager balance in my checking account and will I still make rent if I buy another pack of cigarettes?

So, I can only be productive if I'm being destructive in some overthought concept of equal measure. I'm so irrational that I've made a system for it--to be completely stagnant, to stop time. A flat line.

I think he's in love with her.

I think, the man who couldn't fall in love, the reason I decided against being in love with him, or fighting for him, has fallen in love with the girl he kissed three days after taking my virginity.

So, if you could look at this situation visually: you're in a car on a one-way road that is your life, your person. He's driving downhill, further down, further down, until he reaches a flatline. And I'm just up ahead, this past year, a flatline. Starts to speed ahead, just meandering. Then...a speed bump. A first and second virginity. The peak of an orgasm. The month-long period he fucked me.

And then he fucks her, and starts uphill.

That, non-readers of this blog, is why I am quitting facebook.