(no subject)

I'm feeling especially bleak tonight. Usually that's reserved for Friday nights (I won't bother explaining why at this current juncture).

I think all the time about her moving on. When I feel particularly awful, lonely, sad, and full of sorrowed longing for her, I always wonder why, and the superstitious (I hope) part of me wonders if it's because she's moved on, and maybe at the moments I feel worst, she is with someone new.

But in the end, whether it's superstition or truth, none of it actually matters. She will move on. If she hasn't already, she will; if not soon, someday. In the end, it is all irrelevant. We are not together, won't be together, do not communicate at all, can't communicate even if we want to, because we (I, in particular, as I am me, so I am now my main concern) have to heal.

I've been able to completely avoid looking at her Facebook page, looking at her relationship status. I hope I can continue avoiding that. I live in fear of accidentally finding out something I don't want to find out. When she does move on, I don't want to know. If she's moved on, I don't want to know.

I've been challenging myself toward little baby steps. I was going to go to the grocery store today that we used to always go to. In the end, I couldn't do it; I had to go to a different one instead. I bought the new Mario Kart, even though she and I played the previous one absolutely to death, but I can't bring myself to play it yet. (However, the fact that I paid full price will motivate me to play it and hopefully progress rather than traumatize myself.)

Maybe I feel so bad because of all these steps. It will eventually not feel so bad, and someday I will be able to deal with the reality of her moving on. Whether that's in a month or a year or 10 years or 30 years, I don't want to know until then. Or ever know.

How can someone I loved so much, who loved me so much, become nothing but a memory? It is too much that this can happen. Not only can it happen, it happens to people all the time, as if it's the only way we can exist.

Perhaps the real tragedy is this constant abuse of my sleep schedule.

Lifemate

All I've ever wanted was to be with one person. That didn't happen. I am 35 now, and the reality has truly set in that not only did that not happen, it cannot happen. Maybe I will still meet someone and be with them the rest of my life, but it seems increasingly unlikely.

In fact, I am so particular, so full of neediness and insecurity, so full of flaws and baggage, and so full of wants, it seems absolutely impossible that there could be anyone (yes, anyone) out there for me, and if there actually was, it seems like it would take a miracle for us to meet, and I don't know if I believe in miracles anymore. I am, however, somewhat persuaded to believe in math, and math says that once I lay out all the stipulations, the odds go to almost zero.

In a sensible age range, no kids (probably), no desire for kids, vegetarian/vegan, progressive, likes video games, tolerates my gross jealousy and insecurity and baggage, either doesn't watch TV or at least doesn't need to watch it LOUDLY, doesn't like sports, does like hiking/outdoors/birds/trees/clouds/stars, accepts my weird sensitivity/anxiety/crankiness, does not need or want me to have much money or a nice car or a fancy job or any of those things society says women want, is nerdy...

I could go on.

I am, I think, describing a person that maybe does not exist, and if they do, again, they are probably with someone else or otherwise are not someone I will ever encounter, and should I encounter them, even then, the odds of "love at first sight" and actually ending up together, seem like a mathematical impossibility.

Maybe I will never be with anyone again. I would be okay with that, as long as I could be okay with the fact that I will never be with her again, and be okay with her moving on, and be ok with her being with someone else (or many someone elses). Maybe me never being with anyone again is also preferable to being with several people. Because that's what I fear, that I will have a couple more long-term relationships, a few short-term ones, not necessarily in that order, and then I will die, alone, unfulfilled in any fashion.

But maybe I can and will accept all this. It seems like in the last few years, I have had to come to accept many uncomfortable truths, each of which have nearly pushed me over the edge: It is possible that nothing exists after death; It is highly unlikely that I will ever have any type of career with my music; I will never be with her, and our relationship was never what I thought it was; I will never be the type of person who has a single lifemate and lives happily ever after.

I am getting old and accepting all these things that each seemed (or still seem) so awful, so maybe soon I will be able to accept too what it is that I am having such a hard time accepting right now.

It is possible that life after death is a fairy tale; it is also possible that the notion of there being "someone for everyone" is also a fairy tale. It is possible that I am entirely, existentially alone, and that any feeling of having been eternally linked with someone, or at least linked for life, was utter illusion. All I wanted was to be with her forever. That was all she wanted, at least for some of the 6 years we were together, but she definitely does not want that now, and probably has not for quite some time.

It is highly likely that living in ignorance is preferable.

Hello to my new journal

This is pretty barebones at the moment--no friends, no decent profile. I just wanted to say hello to my new journal.

I spent a long time on Livejournal. I hadn't written since 2014, then wrote one entry in 2016, on April 2. Oddly enough, almost exactly a year later, April 2, 2017, I wrote again, to say that two weeks prior, the girl I'd met on Livejournal 6+ years ago, that I thought was the love of my life, had left me.

Because of that, and because Livejournal has changed, and because pretty much everyone had left, I sort of needed to leave, too. I had put it off for years. Now I'm here. Entries before this one have been brought in from my Livejournal (all my 2017 entries except the first of 2017 that I mention in the previous paragraph).

I know she could find me here, that I'm taking a risk leaving this unlocked, but I hope she doesn't, and I hope that if she does, she respects my need to be left to heal, that she doesn't read and doesn't reply, and if she does read, that it does not hurt or influence her in any way. I just don't want to bother locking things. It's too much hassle. And since I have no friends, it would mean no one could read anything.

Maybe I'll change my mind.

You can't find a savior if you can't look in the mirror.

I was so desperate to save her, from the beginning until the end. She used to tell me that she would be dead if she hadn't met me. I never believed that was true. But I did know, from the very beginning, that I would never leave her, that if it ended, it would have to be because she left me. 6 years later, that's what happened.

I was so overprotective, which she interpreted in all kinds of ways: jealousy, lack of trust, maybe even downright androcentrism. Maybe that wasn't the worst, not compared to my insecurity--but how could I not be, 4000 miles away? How could I not be, even when we were together, when I constantly knew she was slipping away? Year after year?

Maybe I was so desperate to save her, so desperate to protect her, so anxious and so afraid, because deep down I am actually desperate for someone to save me, because I always believed until the end that we could save each other...

...when, in the end, we have to save ourselves?

I can't imagine anyone ever being able to deal with all my baggage. It's not as if I can pretend it's not there. Even when I finally heal, how could I possibly forget her? In the face of that, there is no one who could save me, and I have seen I can't save anyone else. It seems equally impossible that I could ever save myself.

Outfit of the Day

I used to send her my outfit every day. I don't know why. I just did. I miss it. So now, I will be photographing myself on my phone and submitting it to my journal here via e-mail post. Handy! It will be tagged as such. Why? I don't really know. I will just do it, because I missed it. And then I won't wear the same outfit over and over, having forgotten what I wore.

It's only been in the last few months that I've been trying really hard to dress decently. I sort of remade my whole wardrobe, got rid of the sweatshop junk, and bought lots of made in America stuff that I really like. I suck at matching colors, and not all of it is the best fit. I'm chunky too. But eh. Who cares. At least I like my clothes now.

I bought a lot of it hoping to impress her, really looking forward to wearing it for her when we were together again, but... that won't happen now.

Outfits of the Day backlog

4/6/2017
Bill's Khaki's cords and TECHNICOLOR DREAM SHIRT (I made up that title--Mary didn't like it, but after she broke up with me, I figured what the hell and bought it.)
San Antonio Shoemakers' shoes (pretty much the only shoes I wear)




4/10/2017
American Giant french terry crew and polo (both a little big for me), RPMWest raw black denim jeans (they look kinda dressy, and I want to break them in)




4/11/2017
Flint and Tinder polo, American Giant longsleeve T, RPMWest quarter-century belt, RPMWest quarter-century pants



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4/12/2017
Mollusk Surf shirt, American Giant t-shirt, Wonderous Pants (not thrilled with these--I assumed they'd be cotton, they never said, and it turns out they're mostly nylon with a polyester/cotton blend... no returns... oh well)




4/13/2017
SOS (Save Our Soil) organic cotton t-shirt, Flint and Tinder long-sleeve, RPMWest belt and raw denim jeans, SAS Move On Camel shoes, socks are either Pact Organic or are from an east coast family sockmaker (I have my socks all confused!)




4/20/2017
RPMWest shirt, American Giant t-shirt, RPMWest quarter-century pants, SAS Move On Camel shoes, Wellen Surf socks




4/25/2017
Wellen Surf Co shirt, American Giant t-shirt, RPMWest raw denim jeans




4/26/2017
Bill's Khakis Technicolor Dreamshirt!!!, SOS t-shirt, RPMWest raw denim jeans (I wore these all that week... yep.. I pack light), the shoes I've already typed out 12 times



I wore clothes the other days, too; it's just a pain to try to find the photos. I will probably never do a backlog again. That was hard!!!

6 years

Today would have marked 6 years since I told her that I was in love with her, and she was so happy she cried and stayed up all night (or at least that's my romantic version of the story). Actually, it still marks 6 years.

We knew each other before that, and before we even knew each other, she said she was "stalking" me on Livejournal and maybe elsewhere. (I liked that.)

I always wondered, if it hadn't been me, maybe it would have been some other internet person she fell in love with.

But, it's all gone now. I wonder if May 1 will always have meaning to me or if someday I won't think about it.

I don't know if it's because of the timing, because of our student who has passed away, or what, but this weekend has been really difficult for me. I think about her so much, miss her so much. Sometimes I think I'm getting better, but then I have to wonder.

I guess 6 years from now, it will have been 6 years since she left me. I'll be 41. 41. 6 years together, 6 years apart, 12 years total... that's what it will be, May 2023. And I'll be 41. In 2011 we fell in love, and I was 29.

I hope I can look back on now, on then, pat myself on the head metaphorically. I hope things are better in 6 years, when I'm 41. But you never know, do you? 6 years from now, maybe she'll be married with kids, and I'll be with someone, and 6 years after that, they will leave me too.

I suppose, 6 years ago, when I was 29, if I'd known this might happen, nothing much actually would have changed. I knew if we ever parted ways, it would be her leaving me. I knew that April 30 (or before), or whatever the last day of April was in 2011.

Goodbye. I miss you. I hope you're okay. I'm not, but it hasn't even been two months yet, and I'm not pressuring myself to be okay. I also hope you're not reading this. But if you are, I love you very much, and please don't read this anymore, for both our sakes.