Only the Lonely

I awoke, so startled from my dream that my head was pounding and my heart was racing. After i took a moment to collect my thoughts I thought to myself “That wasn't a dream, that was a vision.”

I was among friends, male friends, they were very dramatic, well dressed and handsome in a theateresque style. One in particular gave me a lot of his attention and I enjoyed it. He teased me and we laughed together playfully. Then another young man arrived, handsome, and attentive,although a bit more reserved. I began to get the impression I was very desired by these men, so chivalrous they were. I spoke with the first about some trouble of mine, something that worried me, some insecurity of myself and he reassured me that there was nothing to worry about. My heart was radiating happiness.

Then, more people started arrive and my rose-tinted glasses were quickly removed. I remember two men and two women vividly. One man was tall and large and used his size to frighten people and his strength to manipulate people.The other was short and fat with beady eyes who didn't say anything, just watched, but by not saying anything he said a lot.
Two were women, one small and rail-thin with piercing eyes and another large and fat with a big face and she wore something like a Russian stacking doll on her head, as an elaborate headdress.

The tall man began berating me, the women watching but saying nothing. My previous companions, trying to stand up for me, were silenced by the severity of the hate these new people had for me. I wasn't completely sure why theses people hated me so much. They seemed more than accepting of other people-strange people, lonely people, even bad people.

I had been lonely too, I had craved companionship too, but there was no offer of acceptance from them. They had decided for some reason that I should be treated differently. Then they proceeded to treat me that way. The larger of them advancing on me, slowly and methodically, telling me everything that was “wrong” or “bad” about myself. Even things I had done in the past that were done out of love and kindness and empathy, he twisted and manipulated and threw back at me, as an ugly writhing mass of self loathing, hatred, and regret. I started to hide behind myself, to cover my face, or my arms, as if they could deflect the assault I was receiving. I looked around, for someone to be my champion to step in and say that he was wrong, and that there was nothing that I should be ashamed of, but no one stepped in. Their silence united them with my assailants. I had backed myself onto a ledge, I peered over the ledge and the ground was thick with mud below. I tried to brace myself against the assault one last time, looking frantically at anyone, my eyes pleading for someone to intervene on my behalf because I knew that I couldn't stop it on my own.

I gave up and I stepped off the ledge and fell a short distance landing softly on my feet-then my knees- in the mud. I welcomed the mud because at least I wasn't being assaulted here, even though it was belittling;no one wanted to find themselves knee deep in a mud pit. Strangely the same man pushed the two other women into the mud next. They fell on either side of me, the small one quite and glaring. I couldn't tell if she was glaring at me or at some far-distant point, seething with anger at her predicament. The larger woman with the Russian doll headdress immediately began to blame me. She seemed offended at my very existence and she was going to let me know. At this point, in my dream I can’t get much lower, I was loved and desired, I survived a verbal assault and abuse, and when I was thrown in the mud, no one had defended me, instead they had blamed me for their situation as well.

It was no surprise to me then, at that moment, I cracked.

Something deep inside me shattered, maybe my pride, and words overflowed from my mouth faster than I could control them. I began to tell them all, even the man on the ledge who had put me here, how they had hurt me. It started with how and continued for a time because they had hurt me so much and for so long. I started asking them “Why?” “Why do you cause me pain?” But it was futile because they would not answer me. I wanted to know why they could seem so accepting of people and yet certain people they cherry pick and choose to make outcasts-to say, “We accept this person, even though they have your same faults or worse, but we love them, and we protect them, and we are their family, but not you. You deserve to be put down, trodden on, pissed on and essentially outcast for your past decisions.” And I started to weep because every time I told them something they had done that hurt me, I had to feel that pain all over again, and relive that experience once more.

The large woman argues with me and blames me over and over for her being in the mud. I still don’t understand her logic. She seemed to think my mere presence caused the tall man to throw her and the thin one into the mud, but instead of being upset at him for his thoughts and actions, she was upset at me, the ignorant catalyst, for setting in motion such a reaction.

At this point I am starting to breach the veil of the dream, I can feel my heart beating fast and hear my pulse in my head. I start to wake up, and my dream self is standing up in the mud. She no longer wants to be accepted, she gives up trying to please people, she doesn’t blame anyone for her fall, not even herself, she trudges away through the mud in search of something better. In the end she finds her own potential for greatness, by leaving behind the bullies and the nay-sayers. It’s a lonely way to walk, but she had a light inside of her, and a memory of one time when she was desired and cherished, and touched softly and spoken to with encouragement.

victims

I can't sympathize with people who feel victimized by me. I just cannot. I have been concerned with one thing since I was old enough to think independently and that has been the truth. However, much to the disdain of many people, the truth is not all candied confectioneries and warm fuzzies. It's a pharmakon, it is neither good nor evil, it just is. The good and evil are simply our perception of it; the meaning we give the truth based on our past experiences. If you somehow perceive me or my actions as being bad or evil then that is your perception of reality. There are over 6 billion people in this world and that is a lot pf perceptions and there is not enough time within a lifetime to care about them. I could write volumes about how unfair life is or how dirty and rancid it can be. I could describe in detail situations that i have been in that are utterly unfair and notoriously foul in every aspect. But you wouldn't understand. You are too busy sitting there, feeling sorry for your own self. I suppose I shouldn't expect any more from people. Sometimes their worlds are so small. I pity them. Yet i understand that sometimes it really is a safety mechanism to limit your perception of reality to a tiny corner. If that is what you need to do then do it. Fill that corner with fluffy kittens, and condemned one night stands, and friends that are all sub-par to you in some manner that make you feel better about yourself. I will stay out here, and see things as they are. Reality as a contradiction of everything.

I feel guilty today. Because I am loved, and sought after, and pined for. But it's hopeless. I am too used to betraying my loves. I fear I will never be free of this. What is left after you have betrayed everyone?

i remember Sunday mornings and the sunshine coming through the drawn curtains. The sound of horseshoes on the paved road outside of the apartment building. Coffee and a cigarette in the sunshine of the balcony, waving to people passing by or other's outside on their own balconies. I remember the sound of the television, not in English, but still comforting in it's own right. I remember waffles and eggs and the low hum of the dishwasher. Cleaning empty wine glasses from the evening before. Washing the bedding, and opening the windows to let the fresh air in. It smelled like the country. The sour undertone of manure overshadowed by the freshness of crisp, sweet vegetation. I remember trumpeter swans. I remember micro suede couch fabric against my bare skin and the breeze caressing my naked limbs. Acres and acres of flowers, and a simple depository box, to leave a donation. I remember so much so vibrantly. I close my eyes and I could be there once again. And while I am sorry that things did not go as planned, somewhere, along the line, they did. And it was grand for a time.

Whimp

I started crying today, because my back hurt. I feel like such a wimp but I had to get it out there. This flu-bug or whatever is really quite painful and horrible and I am going to assume that it was the same bug that had been going around a few weeks ago that I had been telling myself how lucky i was not to have caught it. So much for that. So i take alieve and occasionally cry because even walking just hurts. I am such a baby, and i really am... The worst part is that I can only seem to vulnerable to myself. What would be really awesome would be someone to bring me orange juice and a cheesey movie who would not care if I looked like death and who would really just want to sit there with me on a couch, kiss my head, and hold me until i drifted off into a sickness induced sleep. Ugh being sick makes me so needy and hyper-dependent, ew gross. The whole deal just makes me ornery and angry. It kind of sucks being sick and alone though. I snapped on Chris because he keeps telling me he wants me in his life and that i am the best thing in his life, but i keep feeling like he is putting me on a pedestal. His friends don't all really like me, and sometimes i wonder if that is another reason why he wants to be with me so desperately. To show that he is the "bigger person" so to say, and that he will not be influenced by outsiders opinions. e says i am beautiful and wonderful and smart and charming, and yes he knows me too well. He knows that as soon as i have something i no longer want it. Like a chimp, who desperately wants the other chimps banana, but as soon as he has it he just drops it in the jungle brush. meh, i didn't really want this. sigh. Wish his friends hadn't of made me feel like shit. I am a lot happier ... away from all that. I don't think he understands, he says that no one else's opinions should matter but i tell him that they do regardless, especially since they have already made their opinions blatantly obvious.... It is not all just about him... he needs to understand that. /yawn mmmm i could go for black licorice, or black jelly beans. Best treats when you're sick. I can't stay awake much longer. I don't know if it was depression or sickness or what but i am starting to understand where jill is coming from. How you should be picky choosing a date, because it's not just about going out and having fun and getting drunk and doing the nasty. It starts to become about who will be a suitable match and do they want the same things in life and can you tolerate their presence for multiple years, do they want babies?, Will they lose interest in you if you get fat?

I love my friends, but they're not really friends. Basicly because they all want to sleep with me, and sometimes I have obliged, and been too promiscuous. However, I am starting to realize the burden one inherits when taking on a past romance as a friend. They use things against you: the past, your behavior, a few slip-ups.... they all add up. When I am tired of the arrangement they are already in love/lust/like with me so they are hurt and I am just left feeling slightly guilty and bored. Maybe I am heartless? But I do feel slightly guilty, really! You only get what you give. They dish out a lot of shit. Then they stomp and cry and whine when I feed it back to them. Sorry, I am not a stagnant person, I don't sit and wait around for good things to come to me, I get out there and find them. I am not complacent with just doing enough to get by, unlike all of you. You can be fun, but most of the time, you just sadden me. I always tell myself it's just easier to keep people at arms distance, it's easier for both of us, because nothing is really certain about our lives, especially not the people we want so desperately to believe in.

certainty

bright lights tinged with the shadow of deceit. Everyone is so hung up on the hotness the moistness The ugliness that pushes up from below. Your tragedy is your appeal and you wear it quite well. when you have existed so long vacant of certainty the end of uncertainty becomes something to be feared. A fate worse than death this screaming assurance.