Imaginary Human

Maybe it's just temporary but lately I've been getting thoughts but unlike the usual, I've been finding myself unable to do anything about it or make anything of it. For a while, I've been worried about it but I've been able to relax a bit and just let it be. For now.

Whenever this happens, I find myself frustratingly trying to get things done with energy I don't usually have and it somehow works for a while. These phases have worked for a while but not this time so I'm struggling to figure out what has changed. Maybe it's better too since I've had suspicions that maybe that was manic energy so maybe I'm a bit more balanced now? And perhaps this is some way to learn operating in a more balanced way. Hopefully a bit more consistently. Not that there's one specific thing I want to do but that's probably a part of the problem too. I need to find other things to do except work and I need to find something else that my brain will consider an incentive besides money.

Well... so that's one of the handful of thoughts I've been having since the start of the weekend. Besides that... hmmm. I've been having dreams about things that hurt. Events, specifically. These are things I don't like talking about directly. Things I don't want to talk about without making it something to laugh at. Part of why I do that is because of a time I was crying about something then a friend saw me and said: "Who are you making a villain with your tears?" After that, it's become harder to not say things if not in anger.

I get it though, that when people love you a certain degree or like you enough, they can carry a grudge for you and it's something to be careful about. Of course I know that whatever it is isn't absolute. I had to learn through hard ways that situations dealing with people have to be handled a bit more carefully than other matters. Hah! What I lack in grace, I try to make up with thought. As quick as I am to cut people off, I'm not so interested or adept at ruining reputations. Although I do seek to offend sometimes haha! I'm not gonna lie about that.

When I'm not dreaming about past events though, I end up dreaming about weird murderous cat-sitters. My nightmares have upgraded from being chased by or being in the presence of evil things to said things going after my cats. Fucking wild. I hate it. I didn't think it would be more emotionally jarring than having myself as the primary target in my dreams. I even dreamt that one of my cats was beside someone I disliked! Fucking gross. The way my vision focused on their hands as they were about to pet my cat (not a metaphor) and the pride I felt when they were hissed at. I know it's a dream but heh.

If I play that song again. And sing to it. And dance to it... I'm quite certain you'd take it as some sign. I'm just not sure if the distance between us distorts the message. In fact, I don't even know what it means if any of us make a single move to be in each other's lives again. This is like some sandbox and we’re playing different games on separate corners.

But today, I don't mind playing this one song. And I don't mind having thoughts.

You told me then that loneliness is my natural state but the most underrated thing I could share with anyone. I don't believe that. But you also said that your loneliness is the single most hungry part of you. That it resents itself as you despise it. As long as anyone can be by your side to pretend that they're not staring at a void when they look into your heart, then you're okay. It's okay. Everything's okay.

I've spent years trying not to think of the first part. How unfair it was that someone like you could be jealous of my seemingly most natural state of being alone. How annoying it was to be romanticized and how casually you'd say something like that about yourself when we were sitting with someone you're dating. Like, hey, I need compensation for hearing someone tell you "I like the darkness in you babe" because I vomited in my mouth, swallowed it, and had to smile through it. A fucking ordeal. Really. In front of me, my ice cream, and cigarettes? Pick a better fucking conversation than this stupid cliche or whatever about "human souls" or "darkness" or "loneliness" when you're just picking on me.

And it's fine had the tail end of that whole tirade not stuck to my brain, latched onto my frontal lobe-- a fucking shit show of a chant. The siren of my goddamned nightmares whisperingyellingscreeching this low-level consistent humming like some old refrigerator resounding: "It's okay. Everything's okay"

Even when everything's gone wrong besides the world actually ending. Even when you've truly left after poisoning the loneliness you've envied and turned it a little bit more like yours.

"It's okay. Everything's okay."

As I soaked up the understanding of that emptiness when you lose someone. When I worried about the state of my own heart while calculating how long it would take to start healing and feared that it might take too long-- or that healing would take a false start and that ultimately, it just scars around that hollowness... and you've gone and taken that piece without really ever needing it.

"It's okay. Everything's okay."

"All these lights make me lonely"

"Same. Second to being in your arms"

That's the only factual exchange that remains clear to me. When I think about you. When I think about her.

And I decided then "ah, not this kind of romantic" as I covered my ears because that's enough fact for the night. The rest is really between you two and God... then me half an hour later when you realized I couldn't keep my ears from turning red.

__________________________________________________________

Several years later, I would bump into her and she would pull me into the ladies' room and give me a sermon on lip care. She scraped some lipstick on my teeth but all I could do is sort of laugh as I stared in awe when she tells me that she will probably never move on. That she’s settling and it doesn’t matter if she’s dating the nicest bloke (she said she was anyway)

“Everything feels like second choice,”

“Can’t even be mad cause he lost to himself,”

I was soooo drunk but I can recall those words. I remember thinking “ah damn, I never want to feel that way,” even if I don’t exactly know what it is.

——————————————————————————

Happy new year to you both. To the happy versions of you two. My Decemberists.

You got it. Your misery means nothing to me if I don't cause it.

So when I heard some news, some loss... the grief. You have to know that none of that made me happy. At all. You know that, right?

Oh god… I hope you do.

But then, what changes if you don’t know it?

Lately, I’ve been thinking about what other people know. I suppose in the context of you. Or me. Or what do I know about you? What does anyone know about you? What does anyone know about anyone they don’t live with anyway?

I remember days of proximity though. When you had your ideas and I had the time and energy to just walk behind you and look over your shoulder.

“Eh. What’s that?”

Then your smile that’s a bit exaggerated on the eyes.

“Your thematic stupidity will always be your bliss,”

“Ignorance is bliss” is how normal people put it you inane fuck but of course, you don’t really give a shit. That’s okay too. Many words exist for many reasons. We exist in many ways and many reasons too… maybe. Or maybe not.

See? Just thinking about you makes me feel uncertain over any thought or memory that comes to mind. Was that a happy recollection or not? I don’t know.

Every time we had our little banter— did you really laugh wholeheartedly or was it with that grin? The one that meant you were saving everything for later and for when it would hurt. Dunno. Who knows? Maybe some of it. Or maybe you didn’t mean to hurt me at all. That would be sort of nice. The kind of nice the only happens when you look at it through hindsight.

It's taken a while but through recent years, this time of the year has taken a 360. Just shows how powerful love is. How it's become more than how much I hated you. Yes, "hated", past tense. Was. Had been. A "not anymore". Certainly this doesn't stop me from cheekily sayin: "Oh would ya look at THAT."

Because, hey, would you fuckin' look at that. Emotional maturity or any form of maturity isn't really my thing. I ain't trying to put myself on anyone's lane and all times I've tried have ended up being disastrous-- so unreal, untrue and frankly nauseating. Surely it was all that and not just for me. Now though, I think it's easier to tell myself that I couldn't keep up with you and that's just that. I'm not even gonna start with how much I didn't have to because I can admit that it's what I wanted at that time but then I couldn't and you were not going to be kinder. Not for me, not for anyone, and it wasn't my place to put you in yours.

HR tells me I'm just not a good fit for the job. Like anyone with a child heart filled with want, I took it personally. Still do but in a way where I can say you've taught me pretty much what I shouldn't do just for the sake of wanting. To weigh the consequence of time wasted. To not expect formal invitations to parties but know when to not attend.

We had this game we used to play and the best part was that its rules were arbitrary and rested mostly on you. Because we trusted you even if more than half of you were some mystery.

So there was a game we used to play and it goes like this. We (Me, Kibbles, and May) would give a number on how many times a person could have been hypothetically dropped on the head as a child. Whoever has the closest number to your guess wins. Nobody knows the real truth, of course, but yours was what we considered most fair and unbiased.