Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Sick of love

It was a long restless night, tossing
and turning, watching movies, and finally
it's morning. I'm feeling better, no fever,
and while still throbbing, no real pain
that I can't manage. Still, I'm anxious
about needing surgery on Friday.

I can't understand John. He hasn't
phoned at all, and sent email, but,
never replied to mine. I guess he
doesn't want to deal with me right
now, but, it puts his position more clear.

He knows I was sick, but, didn't want
to touch base. A lot of guys can't handle
illness, or infirmity, it's not that unusual,
or a sign of indifference, but, it's still
not great.

I hate being back on a roller coaster of
emotional conflict, both being drawn back
into trusting someone enough to love them,
and then feeling abandoned and rejected.

I realize he's got his own issues with feeling
like it was me who didn't stand by him, too,
so, we're probably in a similar boat, apart
on different seas, which is why we're not
together, and yet, we can't seem to go on.

Love produces addictive endorphins that flood
the universe with color and warmth. But, like
any drug, when it wears off, if it's not replaced,
there is a cold grey withdrawl into bleakness.
The highs are great, but, the plummet is like
falling off a cliff.

I hate love for this because life is difficult
enough as it is without the added pain.
Yet, one little word of encouragement would
probably send me back up to take the ride
again. Is it possible to get off the roller
coaster, or is it part of life to deal with
highs and lows, joy and sorrow?

I don't have these answers, but, I'm realistic
enough to know that I have to come to
reality with my fantasy of getting back
together with John when he doesn't want
that. Maybe he's been toying with me?
He loves to tease me, knowing I'm gullible,
but, I never knew him to be cruel.

He may not know what he wants himself,
and blames me for his own highs and lows.
Maybe we're destroying eachother through
hanging on? Maybe we can't even be
friends? It kills me to realize that I don't
know anymore.

A week ago, I was on top of the world,
really believing we were eternal soulmates,
and that nothing could ever tear us apart
again, but, how quickly I came to a
startling revelation about how it's not for
me to choose my soulmate, but, God.

I can't get it through my head, or my ego
can't accept how he left, and he's gone.
He gets lonely and calls me, but, it's on
a whim, maybe after a few drinks, and
he utters words of love and undying devotion
which fires up all my hopes and dreams.

The beautiful words he fills my world with
are like paintings, covering every wall,
before my eyes constantly until I feel
secure that this illusion is not two-dimensional
and just pretty pictures, but, reality.
Then the house burns down along with
the brightly colored masterpieces that
hypnotized me, and it's hard to resolve
that all that's left is ashes, grey as the
grave and cold as dirt.

I'm sick of the rush of love, and the way
love sucks.

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