It's been almost 2 weeks since I last talked to him. It's been almost two weeks since my friends also moved away. Almost two weeks since I talk to a friend from long ago. Since then I've felt a little more sullen than usual, but no one knows. No one can ever know.
I don't know why I do all the things I do. I've never really understood that part of myself. I present the exterior of not caring about any one's opinions, but I've never been able to let myself crumble and fall to pieces in front of others. Even now, when things feel like they are at their worst I am still unable to show that part of myself.
Everyday I sit in a room; I sometimes walk the streets; I sometimes go to clubs, sometimes to events. None of it changes anything in the turmoil I feel everyday. I am always alone, even in a sea of strangers I am still so alone. Whether it was intentional, or maybe just by happenstance, all my friends have deserted me. Here, now in my hour of need, when I am drowning and struggling to breathe and desperately trying to find something or someone to anchor me... there is no one. No friends. No family.
Without distractions, I end up here again, in this room. Without distractions, I've got nothing to take my attention away from the pain, the anguish, and the voice. "End it..." It's a faint echo, but audible nonetheless. "You know how to end it..."
I'm at my wits end. The events that occurred 7 months ago started me on this downward spiral. I've done everything I could, haven't I? I reached out to my loved ones, but no one reached back. I tried to just snap out of it, but I couldn't deceive myself. I've been self-medicating but the pills take away the pain, but not the memories.
If there were such a thing as God, I'd pray that someone would save me... because I'm so close to the end, and I don't know what to do.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Call It, Day One
I'm a heartless mother-fucker... or at least I was. That all began change a little over 2 years ago. It was around this same time of year back then, when I met him. It was day 1. I still remember what he looked like that first day. We had met online on some random website and agreed to go on a date; or rather, we agreed to "hang out." The problems I had back then seem so foreign and easy to me no. I can't even recall what my issues with solitude were. I don't remember what drove me to seek someone out at all; but I did.
He was homely looking -- long hair, scruffy facial hair, and dressed like someone who would have attended Woodstock if we lived in the sixties. I figured two out of three wasn't so bad, and I got in his car. After some brief conversation, it became clear to me that we were not a match by any means. The only thing we had in common was a mutual physical attraction. At the time, that attraction was stronger on his part than it was on mine.
After an hour of chit-chat and idle touching, we were enjoying the view at the bookstore in downtown when it happened. I asked a question, and a mistake in it's wording began it all. The next minute we were in a relationship. I was lost, and confused about what I said that caused that to become reality, but there we were. Going against my better judgment, I decided to role with it.
That night, I fucked him. My "boyfriend." After the heat of it all had passed, I remember I laid awake, facing away from him, as we slept together in my bed. I thought to myself "What have I done?" "What is this?" and I scoured my mind for a solution that would get this person far away from me without hurting him. Then I thought "I was alone this morning; and now, I'm not. Perhaps, this isn't such a bad thing." I turned back to look at him as he lay sleeping. He still didn't look like much to me, but I put my arms around him and made the fateful decision to see where this course of events would take me. I couldn't have known then just how big of a mistake I was making.
I was a heartless mother-fucker. I thought nothing of cruelty, and much like the rest of my friends, I kept my personal agenda a top priority; putting my wants and needs before everyone else. I didn't feel for anyone, and I made sure never to let anyone get close enough to where I might. During our time together, I stumbled, and my guard was let down.
He was a bleeding heart. Everything and every one had a happy ending in his view. He refused to eat meat, and constantly tried to be as vegan as possible. Morality for him was a black and white thing, and the laws of society were meant to be obeyed to the letter, with no room for personal interpretation. He was an all-around good-guy... but that too, changed.
The next 2 years were a clever blend of torture, psychological warfare, and tender moments. He pushed me, and I pushed back. He was desperate, he wanted so much to get past my walls. He wanted to be the one person that I would let get close. I told him "I am the way I am, because I've been like you before; and it only led to hurt feelings and traumatic memories." Over and over again, for two years he would say that he could be trusted; that I could let him get close without consequence. But he only had words. Time and time again, his actions painted a different picture altogether. That "good-guy" faded over the course of time together, and I began to wonder which one of us was the real heartless one.
Though, it became increasingly clear that he couldn't be trusted with anything, let alone my heart; I had already begun a transformation all my own. This person who I at first felt nothing but a minor lust for had become someone I couldn't do with out. At his behest, he consumed most every moment of my time. My friends, my family, everyone but the two of us mattered not at all. He made himself the center of my world, and because of the love that I developed for him, I did nothing to stop it. Even worse, I betrayed my better judgement and let him get closer, knowing very well that it would be my undoing.
There were times, many times, where I tried to get away; but he wouldn't leave, and secretly I think I didn't want him to. The last time I thought to leave him, I was pulled back again, this time by a harsh reality. At some point in his past, he had been infected. It was the ugly specter of HIV. After he test results came back positive, he came over my house. I held him there while he cried, and promised him then that we would get through this. That I loved him. That we would always be together. He told me then, like so many times before, that he and I would be forever. Later that week, I also got tested. My results were negative. I was ambivalent about the results.
For 6 months, he and I dealt with the reality of his HIV-positive status. I stuck by him, offering emotional support, and optimism. When he found out he was positive, in that moment I abandoned all other thoughts I had about ever leaving him. Through some strange series of events, I had come to feel something that had forsaken so long ago - love. Genuine romantic love for another person. I couldn't or rather I didn't know how I could live without him by my side.
In late October the final act took place. He disappeared for 3 days. He didn't call, and he ignored my calls, my txts, and my e-mails. On the third day I received a message. he said that he had been lying about the extent of his HIV-infection. He told me that he had an aggressive strain of the virus, and that he already had AIDS. He said he loved me, and that he didn't want anyone to watch him die; that he wanted to go off and die alone in silence.
As I read his message, I felt something inside me breaking. I felt anguish. Suddenly, all those painful emotions that I had locked away for so long, escaped and for the first time in a so many years... I cried. He was gone. With no warning, and no debate; he just removed himself from my life; from the life that we were building together. I couldn't let that be the end of it.
The next day, I waited. I was like stone, motionless, waiting silently in the shadows of the parking lot outside his job. When his car finally arrived, I prepared to confront him. He got out of his car not looking despaired, but instead, overjoyed. I walked up to him, and immediately he threatened me with calling the cops. I did not waiver. I demanded that he and I talk things out. Again he threatened me. I would not budge. I told him that I couldn't live my life knowing that he was going to let himself die alone. He paused...
I started crying and I fell to my knees. I looked up at him and said "I'll die... I'll die with you. I won't let you be alone." and for a moment, I saw the man I used to know. It was brief, then he dialed '911' and I made my exit. Looking back at him as I dashed away. That night, I poked my head up from my tear-soaked pillows to answer his phone call.
He said "What you did today was beautiful."
I said "I know."
"It made me feel awful..."
I was confused at first, but the voice in the back of mind worked out the truth before he could continue.
He said "I've been lying to you."
I said "I know."
"I've been cheating on you with someone else, and I didn't know how to end us... So I told you my HIV was worse than it is, and said I was dying."
I was speechless.
I told him "You're a monster..."
He said "I know."
I hung up the phone after that. I wasn't mad, not even close. I felt relieved. He wasn't dying, which is what I wanted more than anything. I was just happy that he was going to live. I laid there in my bed staring at the wall, thinking about the last 2 years. I compromised everything about myself to be closer to this one person, and to let them be closer to me. 2 years of moments, struggles, and feelings that all were thrown away with such ease. I felt sick. I remembered this feeling, the feeling of loss. The ache caused by an emptiness inside oneself. I gambled with a heart I didn't think I had, and I lost. I remembered day 1, and how much I didn't care for him. How strange, how things had become.
Somewhere in the haze of our emotions he and I both changed. I became a real person, not driven solely by selfishness, and gave in to emotions I didn't realize I had; and I watched idly by as he became a heartless mother-fucker.
It's been 6 months since that life ended. I'm no closer to closure, and all I have to show for a wasted 2 years of my life are a multitude of misplaced hopes and feelings of abandonment and regret. I'm wise and humble enough to when I'm lost. I'd give anything to feel nothing again.
" I had a dream my life would be, so different from this hell I'm living..."
He was homely looking -- long hair, scruffy facial hair, and dressed like someone who would have attended Woodstock if we lived in the sixties. I figured two out of three wasn't so bad, and I got in his car. After some brief conversation, it became clear to me that we were not a match by any means. The only thing we had in common was a mutual physical attraction. At the time, that attraction was stronger on his part than it was on mine.
After an hour of chit-chat and idle touching, we were enjoying the view at the bookstore in downtown when it happened. I asked a question, and a mistake in it's wording began it all. The next minute we were in a relationship. I was lost, and confused about what I said that caused that to become reality, but there we were. Going against my better judgment, I decided to role with it.
That night, I fucked him. My "boyfriend." After the heat of it all had passed, I remember I laid awake, facing away from him, as we slept together in my bed. I thought to myself "What have I done?" "What is this?" and I scoured my mind for a solution that would get this person far away from me without hurting him. Then I thought "I was alone this morning; and now, I'm not. Perhaps, this isn't such a bad thing." I turned back to look at him as he lay sleeping. He still didn't look like much to me, but I put my arms around him and made the fateful decision to see where this course of events would take me. I couldn't have known then just how big of a mistake I was making.
I was a heartless mother-fucker. I thought nothing of cruelty, and much like the rest of my friends, I kept my personal agenda a top priority; putting my wants and needs before everyone else. I didn't feel for anyone, and I made sure never to let anyone get close enough to where I might. During our time together, I stumbled, and my guard was let down.
He was a bleeding heart. Everything and every one had a happy ending in his view. He refused to eat meat, and constantly tried to be as vegan as possible. Morality for him was a black and white thing, and the laws of society were meant to be obeyed to the letter, with no room for personal interpretation. He was an all-around good-guy... but that too, changed.
The next 2 years were a clever blend of torture, psychological warfare, and tender moments. He pushed me, and I pushed back. He was desperate, he wanted so much to get past my walls. He wanted to be the one person that I would let get close. I told him "I am the way I am, because I've been like you before; and it only led to hurt feelings and traumatic memories." Over and over again, for two years he would say that he could be trusted; that I could let him get close without consequence. But he only had words. Time and time again, his actions painted a different picture altogether. That "good-guy" faded over the course of time together, and I began to wonder which one of us was the real heartless one.
Though, it became increasingly clear that he couldn't be trusted with anything, let alone my heart; I had already begun a transformation all my own. This person who I at first felt nothing but a minor lust for had become someone I couldn't do with out. At his behest, he consumed most every moment of my time. My friends, my family, everyone but the two of us mattered not at all. He made himself the center of my world, and because of the love that I developed for him, I did nothing to stop it. Even worse, I betrayed my better judgement and let him get closer, knowing very well that it would be my undoing.
There were times, many times, where I tried to get away; but he wouldn't leave, and secretly I think I didn't want him to. The last time I thought to leave him, I was pulled back again, this time by a harsh reality. At some point in his past, he had been infected. It was the ugly specter of HIV. After he test results came back positive, he came over my house. I held him there while he cried, and promised him then that we would get through this. That I loved him. That we would always be together. He told me then, like so many times before, that he and I would be forever. Later that week, I also got tested. My results were negative. I was ambivalent about the results.
For 6 months, he and I dealt with the reality of his HIV-positive status. I stuck by him, offering emotional support, and optimism. When he found out he was positive, in that moment I abandoned all other thoughts I had about ever leaving him. Through some strange series of events, I had come to feel something that had forsaken so long ago - love. Genuine romantic love for another person. I couldn't or rather I didn't know how I could live without him by my side.
In late October the final act took place. He disappeared for 3 days. He didn't call, and he ignored my calls, my txts, and my e-mails. On the third day I received a message. he said that he had been lying about the extent of his HIV-infection. He told me that he had an aggressive strain of the virus, and that he already had AIDS. He said he loved me, and that he didn't want anyone to watch him die; that he wanted to go off and die alone in silence.
As I read his message, I felt something inside me breaking. I felt anguish. Suddenly, all those painful emotions that I had locked away for so long, escaped and for the first time in a so many years... I cried. He was gone. With no warning, and no debate; he just removed himself from my life; from the life that we were building together. I couldn't let that be the end of it.
The next day, I waited. I was like stone, motionless, waiting silently in the shadows of the parking lot outside his job. When his car finally arrived, I prepared to confront him. He got out of his car not looking despaired, but instead, overjoyed. I walked up to him, and immediately he threatened me with calling the cops. I did not waiver. I demanded that he and I talk things out. Again he threatened me. I would not budge. I told him that I couldn't live my life knowing that he was going to let himself die alone. He paused...
I started crying and I fell to my knees. I looked up at him and said "I'll die... I'll die with you. I won't let you be alone." and for a moment, I saw the man I used to know. It was brief, then he dialed '911' and I made my exit. Looking back at him as I dashed away. That night, I poked my head up from my tear-soaked pillows to answer his phone call.
He said "What you did today was beautiful."
I said "I know."
"It made me feel awful..."
I was confused at first, but the voice in the back of mind worked out the truth before he could continue.
He said "I've been lying to you."
I said "I know."
"I've been cheating on you with someone else, and I didn't know how to end us... So I told you my HIV was worse than it is, and said I was dying."
I was speechless.
I told him "You're a monster..."
He said "I know."
I hung up the phone after that. I wasn't mad, not even close. I felt relieved. He wasn't dying, which is what I wanted more than anything. I was just happy that he was going to live. I laid there in my bed staring at the wall, thinking about the last 2 years. I compromised everything about myself to be closer to this one person, and to let them be closer to me. 2 years of moments, struggles, and feelings that all were thrown away with such ease. I felt sick. I remembered this feeling, the feeling of loss. The ache caused by an emptiness inside oneself. I gambled with a heart I didn't think I had, and I lost. I remembered day 1, and how much I didn't care for him. How strange, how things had become.
Somewhere in the haze of our emotions he and I both changed. I became a real person, not driven solely by selfishness, and gave in to emotions I didn't realize I had; and I watched idly by as he became a heartless mother-fucker.
It's been 6 months since that life ended. I'm no closer to closure, and all I have to show for a wasted 2 years of my life are a multitude of misplaced hopes and feelings of abandonment and regret. I'm wise and humble enough to when I'm lost. I'd give anything to feel nothing again.
" I had a dream my life would be, so different from this hell I'm living..."
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