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November 17th, 2018
11:18 pm - there was a moment in time when i was weightless...
There has never been (and I doubt will ever be) an intention to deliberately hurt you on an emotional level (or any level for that matter). Since D tends to force herself through a constant up-and-down of emotional peaks, if I can help anticipate or control the fall- it's a proverbial parachute to keep everyone from hitting the bottom at full speed. She tries to keep her standard quality of life at a pretty (artificial) happy level, however I know full well that this added emotional attachment or indulgence in these happy moments only leads to more severe disappointment. To me, It's like an airplane crash. You start out in a downward spiral indulging in a painful panic that's borderline euphoric- followed promptly by an impact that leaves you, well, dead.
This is where the need for detachment from one's self plays in. It establishes some sense of abstract normalcy since you can't add emotion, logic, guilt or any other similar concepts of human nature to a person devoid of self. Things temporarily lose their impact. Things are no longer in your hands. They're in the hands of a conceptual form devolved into humanity and so unclear it can't be touched. Maybe this is my cynical depiction of fate. Maybe it's a lame scapegoat. The whole situation usually ends in me realizing that every avoidance tactic, every lie, every ploy or runaround or "forgotten event" is just a temporary fix which usually results in "I told you so" and everyone ends up at the bottom anyway. It leaves someone figuratively clinging to your pant-leg begging for forgiveness or a fresh start from all the unnecessary shit just piled onto a usually simple scenario complicated by an inability for honesty and a need to close off from everyone- watching a deserved quota of painful "karmic retribution" caused by "my" own hands.
It's frustrating to see someone come to this realization, but to come to it so many times is awful. I'm thankful that every time I'm given a new piece to the puzzle that is her warped-like-microwaved-tupperware psyche that each time I'm re-inspired to finally put things together to the point that I can find a preventative measure (and hopefully some closure.) I present it to her and within minutes it's gathering dust.
Maybe this is a life goal. I wish I knew. Maybe this stifled metamorphosis of self-actualization has spawned something so hideous and malformed I can't even begin to grasp it. Any progress is usually all too fragile and slips through my fingers like water. Maybe that's all too cliche. Maybe all I (can) ever do is speculate and make no progress for her. Well fuck me.
I'm sorry, but I think deep down, I'm not willing to accept this- especially seeing the impact it's had on you and many others. It's not fucking fair. Even though she tells herself and 'feels' as though she puts others above her, I know that's not always the case. I'll extend myself a great deal at times, others- not so much. Hah. It literally depends on how caught up we are in the tornado of personal upheaval. The climax is the self-sabotage and the post-depressive nursing of self-inflicted wounds. This usually makes even ME seem more nurturing but at the same time It's paired with actually being used to sacrificing my own happiness. While I'm a sucker for punishment- She feels deserving of everything bad that's happened to her, self-inflicted or otherwise.
The epitome of "a product of strange circumstances".
I am so sorry for everything.
(and I am ready for my spaceship full of snow, Wonder. If you see this- It took 3 days... <3)
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](https://www.scribbld.com/img/mood/classic/tired.gif) sleepy
Current Music: Garbage - Sleep
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