February 24, 2040 - 9:56
I want to understand why I cried, but there's no real way to know. I could make a list of reasons spanning the length of my femur, each one equal and co-mingling contributers.
1. part of my past/ two worlds collide, etc..
2. confusion
3. frustration
4. pure chemicals
5. his face
6. melancholic, teeth-gritting relief
7. validation
8. dissapointment
I hesitate for the triteness of this sentiment, but in one moment I felt like everthing I had said and done in the last year came back to look me in the face, and tell me that I don't know. Shocking.
I have a mock-satisfaction at the moat I've conjured up around my tender parts, and I have applauded myself for the defiant lonely style I have adopted as necessity.
To be faced so abruptly with the physical proof that I haven't always been this way, and that at one time I was loved exclusively and really loved by one person. And I loved him back, and we did it only with each-other like normal people. I was normal!
I don't know, I say I cried because I realized, undeniably, that I'm not really what I tell myself that I am.
A surface self-diagnosis: "I want to be alone and out of love indefinitely, because God knows I don't want another one of those terrible things. Not worth it! It's cooler this way."
I couldn't take any more blows then, when I decided that some people should be alone and I am one of them. Still, I'm not ready, I left him to sob on my roof. But possibly, I am ready to acknowledge that I deserve to have it back sometime.
Trite as hell. Human companionship bull-shit.
Boo-yo. Alone forever.