#8via

Pillow Talk  

CALLIE: "I feel so silly saying this... It's stupid really..."

AUTHOR: "Buuuuuut...?"

CALLIE: "I think...."

AUTHOR: "Yes...?"

CALLIE: "No... I know I'm falling in loving in love with you."

AUTHOR: "I think you already are."

CALLIE: "But that can't be. Right?"

AUTHOR: "Really?"

CALLIE: "No. No. No. That's insane. It's like... this whole thing started on THURSDAY. It's SATURDAY. Feelings aren't like that, they take time to develop and grow and appear and whatever."

AUTHOR: "You know I'm right"

CALLIE: "Ay..." (Pause) "You are."

CALLIE covers her face with a pillow. She shrugs. 

CALLIE: "Bitch how can you be so sure?"

AUTHOR: "You have superpowers, I have mine. I see the future. I know it. Sure, it's mostly probabilities and intuition but I've learnt to trust it."

CALLIE rolls her eyes thinking 'here we go again' and 'you're insufferable'.

AUTHOR: "The first time I saw you, I knew what was going to happen. I'm ready. I'm not scared. Anxious, maybe. Why do you think I've been crazy for you all this time?"

CALLIE: "Rejecting you was really fun. Can we do it again?"

AUTHOR: "You sadistic bitch" (facepalms)

AUTHOR: (immediately) "You think love develops with time. But I think love comes from intensity." (teasingly) "And although we have different views on the world, you know my methods are very effective"

AUTHOR holds CALLIE close. Silence.

AUTHOR: "So...

AUTHOR: "Are you gonna say it?"

CALLIE: "Wha-?"

AUTHOR: "Say it. Tell me."

CALLIE: "But Nao-."

AUTHOR: "What are you afraid of? Just say it."

CALLIE pauses for a moment for dramatic flair. Suddenly, it becomes serious real.

CALLIE: "Naomy. I love you."

AUTHOR: "I love you too."

---

In management and leadership there is this understanding that the skills that brought you to this level are not necessarily the same ones you will be using for this new stage of your career.

For example, if you are a very hardworking, detail-oriented person who is able to create beautiful pieces, and you end up leading a team; it may be that your hard work and detailing becomes excessive perfectionism and micro-management. 

It occurs to me that, just in this same way, my current way of dealing with problems may be a bit... adolescent and in need of an update. I like to make decisions using my heart. For someone as mechanic as myself, listening to the damn thing surely helps me create a better, more balanced me. Right? WRONG.

In the most spectacular irony of reaction formation, it may just be that I now make decisions with a bit too much heart. Overcompensation is a big theme within this mythology, it's probably one of my worst character flaws.

All or nothing is not only a terrible artistic way of looking at things that is unproductive, it is also a logical fallacy and leads to catastrophizing and negative thought formation. It's great for making decisions when you are in limit-situations, but everyday life is not a limit-situation. Sometimes... you just have to chill.

I really admire Callie in the sense that I felt she liked to take her time in making decisions. I am such a fucking continental philosopher I just dive myself into anything and suffer the consequences. 

I woke up at 4:00 am with a bone to pick. I freewrote a beautiful letter to Callie that was so fucking heartfelt it would've probably gotten me back together with her. It was open, it was honest and above all it was vulnerable. 

Finally, I was able to cry. I felt the highs and lows of each word, every singularity a poignant pain in my chest. My heart trembled as I prepared myself to hit enter. But something stopped me...

The pre-frontal cortex has a funny way of dealing with things. Don't get me wrong, at this point I was pretty sure I was going to do it. I was committed to the bit. Mistakes were going to be made.

"But Author..." the biosemiotic signal whispered... "Today is your big interview at that big shot American firm. You don't need the distraction of a reply to this text to make you loose your focus and ruin this opportunity".

Dammit. The little voice was right. I opened Signal to chat with Elle and copy paste the entire block of text so I could do the entire heart-wrenching bit tomorrow. 

Command + Z. Command + V. Command + X. Command V. Command + Z. Command + A. Function + A. Command Z. Function + Z. Function + X. Function + V. Shit. Fuck. Bitch. Pussy. Idiot. Bitch. Fuck. Fucker. Motherfucker.

I LOST THE DAMN LETTER.

The microwave is beeping. My mother opens the door behind me to go to the shared bathroom. The feeling of frustration overcomes me and I decide to rant on Tumblr, probably only for Elle's amusement. 

I realize writing the damn letter was a mistake in the first place. Perhaps I'm being too harsh. Not a mistake per se, but more of an automatic thing I did when I woke up. 

When you're depressed and suicidal, you wake up and the first feeling you get is that you want to kill yourself. It takes like a couple of minutes for automatic processes to get together and working again as a whole and you finally decide NOT to kill yourself.

This is a gratitude list. I've been meaning to write about this since I decided to break up with her on Wednesday. I feel it's important to do the mental exercise of all the good things this experience gave me so I can properly close the chapter.

1. Substantially helped me redefine my relationship with Elle in a way that makes the most sense for us. Had it not been for her, Elle and I wouldn't have had the opportunity to explore those feelings and prompted those conversations. 

2. She reminds me of myself before philosophy. I discovered just how toxic I could be, defense mechanisms going wild. I also discovered that I was able to be kind and understand to my former self. There was a lot of healing that she brought just from being able to deal with her and treat her with compassion. I understood that I was capable of other reactions and decisions. 

3. It gave me closure to my relationship with Joseph. Up until now, I didn't exactly understand quite well what happened between us. We loved and still love each other but we are terrible together, just like she and I. I know I will love her forever just like I still love him, years later. It made me further punctuate my understanding that having relationships and loving people are two completely separate things.

It also helped me appreciate way deeper the love and affection he has for me as a friend. I believe our friendship has grown throughout the years - for god's sake, he even pre-dates Elle. But every time we see each other we fight, and the way we navigate around each other is still very much determined by our mutual love and respect for one another, and also a deep feeling of possession, jealousy, sexual attraction, and just animalistic behavior. Thanks to her, I now understand that the main reason we still have a relationship is that he is an AMAZING friend.

4. It gave me the strength to question my relationship with David. I didn't want to realize how deeply disappointed I was. I feel like I didn't have any time to see him, enjoy him or even just have sex the last time he was here. I didn't even go with him to the airport - I just couldn't wait to do snow again. I have been failing as a partner.

I thought I needed more communication but I just needed something physical to spark my interest in the world, and a job so I wouldn't have so much fucking time to miss him. I'm now swamped with activities and the whole way we communicate with each other is starting to make the most sense.

5. Trust trust trust my instincts. We had one date in which she questioned vaccines. I have no clue why I decided to keep letting her charm me, although that pretty much was the moment I knew it wasn't going to last but that it was going to be fun. That very same day she showed me some sort of vulnerability that I found open and honest, charming really. It was the moment I decided to love her in spite of who she was, and not because of.

I guess this is it. Not bad at all huh?

It's come to my attention that I may have been, perhaps, a teeny tiny bit too intense with you. Let me explain:

The growing frustration in my relationships is that the two people I love the most are unable or unwilling to relate to me in a way that I would like. 

Although I love messing with societal expectations, I am still disgustingly average. I want to get married, I want to live with someone and have 50 year anniversaries. I want to be old ladies with cats and open and old record shop after we retire in our mid-70s. I want a life companion. 

I'm pretty sure I'll be with both Elle and David for the rest of my life. However, neither of them can or want to fulfill this role. Elle already has her partner Nick, they've lived together since forever and... well the space was already filled when I got there. It wasn't anyone's fault, it just was. 

David doesn't want to have that with anyone anymore. His divorce took a big emotional and psychical toll on him, and he already has a lifelong commitment which is his daughter. Honestly, although I know he adores her, I feel like this was one responsibility too many and he just doesn't want anything more piling up. 

We've talked about moving in together and getting married, but it would imply we would both need to change our lives for the worst. It's pretty obvious our careers and wants are too different for us to make it work geographically, although we are so compatible regarding everything else. Again... it isn't anyone's fault. It just was.

When I saw you, my hormones went berserk. The self-narrative impulse in me was so eager to place you within this storyline. I thought to myself "This is my wife, I've finally found her". I wanted to grab you, cherish you, possess you, be with you.

The feeling is not *real*, of course. It's the by-product of my demented impulses, projected desires, and backlogged frustrations. I am glad that you have enough wisdom to understand that relationships should not be built upon ideals but on fact, and that you're waiting for things to actually get built.

Ultimately this all has to do with control, and my extreme capacity to mold the world to my will. I am very good at being God. But life is not a play, all the parts neatly written, roles waiting to be filled by eager actors. Life is more like improv -  a situation is given and you have to figure yourself out of this mess. You do what you can with what you have.

Dreamlike, she appears amidst a haze of sensations. 

All I could recognize is her silhouette coming in and out of focus as if seen through the lens of some 70s Italian pornographic director. Before I could come to my senses, I was already wrapped around her dripping wet hair - the prey that eagerly waits to be devoured.

It seems all there exists is her body and my body. It's interesting. I was under the impression that the idea of two bodies becoming one was a figure of speech, something romantic poets declare in the hopes of bedding some unsuspecting victim, a bouquet of roses in hand. 

I wanted to tell her I loved her but couldn't. Verbalizing wouldn't have made a difference. I was hypnotized by her glance. Paralyzed. It's as if there was an invisible layer of cloth beyond her naked body, and she was removing it timidly through her stare.

A ray of light shines through the window and bounces off her shirt. I wanted to rip it off with my bare hands and let it suffocate me. I wanted to consume every inch of her body, lick her sweat. It feels like my body is not enough, my mind is not enough. No multiplicities are enough to give her in tribute. I would give her the last drop of my blood.

I want to overcome this demented desire. I don't know why I keep begging her to cum inside me as if the act would somehow constitute the end of a ritual for possession. I wanted her to use me. I just want to feel her warmth when this is all over. 

P L E A S E, please, please use me. 

She told me she loved me. I feel like I should want to shout it to the world but I just want to keep it for myself, a sacred mystery only mystics get to know.

Every day she feels more like the place I want to be.

Every day she becomes home.

Espero que tu corazón sincronice con el mío, la ansiedad arropándote íntegra. Espero que mi color te absorba lentamente hasta que el dulce deleite de mis manos te asfixien. Cada minuto de tu tortura se me hace un delicioso manjar. Eres tan apetecible que tu suplicio es un privilegio.

Montaré una selección de mobiliario al margen del abismo para que tus multiplicidades tengan una taza de té.