Today's song is "I Can't Stop Loving You" By Ray Charles.
I don't know what exactly my problem is. I've never been quite so attached to somebody before, not even my first love.
So I sent him a link to today's song. I don't know how he'll react to it, but it does express my feelings better then I could.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
It's All Pointless, Anyway.
They say that the best poets are those whom are experiencing misery; their own personal hell. This is doubly true for me.
For no real reason (though to say so is a lie), I've decided to write about my past relationships. One just ended. But, just like the last one, it's not a real relationship of the standard kind. It's the kind where I'd give my love to the other, and he'd just give me appreciation of that love instead of his own love. It's enough to make me feel like I'm the 'chopped liver' of the world. Life-giving nutrition that people will avoid.
But I wonder... when I think to myself about the multitude of things that could make me desirable to others, am I just lying? What really is desirable right now? I realize that my body is less then desirable, but after years of trying, I know that nothing can change no matter what I do (I've actually been losing weight, but it's always extremely insignifigant).
Well, enough with my self-pity. I can't stand to listen to it myself, so I doubt if you're still alive after reading that alone.
The first person I gave my affections to would be David. He seemed nice enough. He had a weak heart (in more then one way, as later came to light) and circulatory problems resulting from it. Although this would probably scare away most people, he was on so many psychotropic drugs he couldn't take most over-the-counter medicines. He was a nice Englishman living in Warwick, where he went to university and, later, work. He was on the side of IT, which I know know never to trust nearly so deeply as I did him. Backstabbers, every one of them, and unreliable if you could even trust them to complete simple tasks. I hope that you understand that David was the worst example of the insane there is.
As I said before, he seemed nice enough. He had the queerest hair (and I say that in a good way), fluffy and too long to be called short. He was physically attractive, albeit a bit too skinny. His accent was interesting; It was actually more like a mixture of Canadian and Australian accents then a British accent. The best thing about him was that he was completely and utterly cuddleable. The type of person who you could hug if you were cold or lonely, or even just to say 'hi!'
But of course, he had his multitude of faults. I won't even mention his cornucopia of sexual fetishes. It goes without saying that he was never a virgin. He liked a multitude of things. At one time, he was a lizard with two 'legnths', both of which had to be coaxed out of a special pouch. That was just creepy....
Being natually faithful, I stood next to him through whatever he was going through at the moment. Trying to defend him in arguments and help him through his tough spots. All the while, he was threatening to break up the relationship for my benefit. Does that even make sense? I was happy the whole time I was with him. The only time I was not happy was when he upset me from threatening break-ups. Yet, all that time, he was the one who was given the most concern. I made sure to stay with him all the time I possibly could. I stood with him when he was drunk and near-suicidal. Somewhat ironic, because suicide is exactly what his last partner did. You'd think that it'd be much easier to escape a relationship with him by waiting for a couple of days and saying 'yes.'
Then one day, he actually did it - he broke up with me. He gave me the absolutely stupidest reason ever. He said that he couldn't go through long-distance relationships anymore. How ironic that his next four or five were the exact same way? Sadly, this was only about a year ago. God, he was a slut.
Fast-forward to something near the present. I can't even remember how long ago I started with him. He was Amilcar, the incredibly adorable Puerto Rican from Georgia. Calling him adorable is actually an incredible understatement. He has the sexiest chin I have ever seen, well defined to the end of his jaw, nearly.
Oh lord.
What can I say?
I'm still in love with him.
It just won't go away.
It's kind of odd, really. After he severed his ties with me (he says he so longs to remain friends with me, but it would be so painful for me...), I was OK. But then I decided to log back on to the MUCK I see him on, and when he came on, I started crying uncontrolably. It's terrible. I can't even feel what I want to feel about him. I'm such a terrible wreck now. I've been thinking how much Ray Charles' I Can't Stop Loving You mirrors how I'm feeling.
So I'm stuck in the present. There's one person I've been wanting to date, but I don't know if I can. And I keep feeling the sneaking suspicion that if I don't act soon, he'll slip out of my fingers as well. I don't know. The only thing I can do right now is fret over how my medication is working.
For no real reason (though to say so is a lie), I've decided to write about my past relationships. One just ended. But, just like the last one, it's not a real relationship of the standard kind. It's the kind where I'd give my love to the other, and he'd just give me appreciation of that love instead of his own love. It's enough to make me feel like I'm the 'chopped liver' of the world. Life-giving nutrition that people will avoid.
But I wonder... when I think to myself about the multitude of things that could make me desirable to others, am I just lying? What really is desirable right now? I realize that my body is less then desirable, but after years of trying, I know that nothing can change no matter what I do (I've actually been losing weight, but it's always extremely insignifigant).
Well, enough with my self-pity. I can't stand to listen to it myself, so I doubt if you're still alive after reading that alone.
The first person I gave my affections to would be David. He seemed nice enough. He had a weak heart (in more then one way, as later came to light) and circulatory problems resulting from it. Although this would probably scare away most people, he was on so many psychotropic drugs he couldn't take most over-the-counter medicines. He was a nice Englishman living in Warwick, where he went to university and, later, work. He was on the side of IT, which I know know never to trust nearly so deeply as I did him. Backstabbers, every one of them, and unreliable if you could even trust them to complete simple tasks. I hope that you understand that David was the worst example of the insane there is.
As I said before, he seemed nice enough. He had the queerest hair (and I say that in a good way), fluffy and too long to be called short. He was physically attractive, albeit a bit too skinny. His accent was interesting; It was actually more like a mixture of Canadian and Australian accents then a British accent. The best thing about him was that he was completely and utterly cuddleable. The type of person who you could hug if you were cold or lonely, or even just to say 'hi!'
But of course, he had his multitude of faults. I won't even mention his cornucopia of sexual fetishes. It goes without saying that he was never a virgin. He liked a multitude of things. At one time, he was a lizard with two 'legnths', both of which had to be coaxed out of a special pouch. That was just creepy....
Being natually faithful, I stood next to him through whatever he was going through at the moment. Trying to defend him in arguments and help him through his tough spots. All the while, he was threatening to break up the relationship for my benefit. Does that even make sense? I was happy the whole time I was with him. The only time I was not happy was when he upset me from threatening break-ups. Yet, all that time, he was the one who was given the most concern. I made sure to stay with him all the time I possibly could. I stood with him when he was drunk and near-suicidal. Somewhat ironic, because suicide is exactly what his last partner did. You'd think that it'd be much easier to escape a relationship with him by waiting for a couple of days and saying 'yes.'
Then one day, he actually did it - he broke up with me. He gave me the absolutely stupidest reason ever. He said that he couldn't go through long-distance relationships anymore. How ironic that his next four or five were the exact same way? Sadly, this was only about a year ago. God, he was a slut.
Fast-forward to something near the present. I can't even remember how long ago I started with him. He was Amilcar, the incredibly adorable Puerto Rican from Georgia. Calling him adorable is actually an incredible understatement. He has the sexiest chin I have ever seen, well defined to the end of his jaw, nearly.
Oh lord.
What can I say?
I'm still in love with him.
It just won't go away.
It's kind of odd, really. After he severed his ties with me (he says he so longs to remain friends with me, but it would be so painful for me...), I was OK. But then I decided to log back on to the MUCK I see him on, and when he came on, I started crying uncontrolably. It's terrible. I can't even feel what I want to feel about him. I'm such a terrible wreck now. I've been thinking how much Ray Charles' I Can't Stop Loving You mirrors how I'm feeling.
So I'm stuck in the present. There's one person I've been wanting to date, but I don't know if I can. And I keep feeling the sneaking suspicion that if I don't act soon, he'll slip out of my fingers as well. I don't know. The only thing I can do right now is fret over how my medication is working.
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