Crying

Well, I woke up this morning and cried.  No fault of my own, though.  Turned out my new best friend was a figment of my machinations.   That never goes over well, internally.  Well, it never goes well ever, actually.  A little heart breaking.  All of the things we talked about.  The moments shared.  What tipped me off?  The high fidelity appearance across the bridge.  There's always some loss in dreaming.  There is always a little bit of something that goes away in the reanimation, but for him, it was absolutely lossless.  Like, I can't even make myself, or remake myself, over there into a lossless construction.  I've tried.

It's just tough, you know?  When you think you've got it figured out and managed and it turns out everything was simply looping back and back dooring you.  So I woke up with that realization and cried a while.  Not uncontrollable sobbing, but quiet crying.  I thought he was my new best friend, but I had my doubts.  That's why I didn't tell anyone.  I mean, no one wants to introduce a new friend and have that friend turn out to be a serial killer.  Then all the egg is on your face for being so dumb.  But we shared moments.  Real moments of selflessness and inner nakedness, the kind of things that bring people together.

I should have known when there was no exchange of names, but I chalked it up to other times of bonding with other people when I didn't get the names right or at all until the fifth or sixth time we hung out together.  It doesn't dull the loss.  It doesn't dull the pain of heart in being alone again.  That stays real.  That stays scarring.

It's difficult to smile through this.  When things are clearly bad or clearly good it's easy to smile.  It's easy to see the humor and say to yourself "oh yeah, that was pretty hilarious wasn't it?"  It's pretty easy to look on the bright side.  Hell, some of my best laughs I've had at my lowest marks, but when things are blurring that badly it's just alarming.  Hair raising in the purest sense.  Just hurtful.  Difficult to begin to quantify.  To yourself and others.  It's hard to talk about it to other people without feeling judged, but not just by them.  It's difficult to be judged by the rest of the parts and pieces inside your own head that have not gone away.  The parts and pieces that still talk to you.  The parts and pieces that still have the ability to make you hurt, to make you pay.  To occupy you and your space.

I don't want to go back on pills.  I don't want a chemical lobotomy, but I don't want this either.  It's a different kind of pain.  A different kind of fear.  I know I am fooling myself that I can manage it.  I know that.   Part of what makes it so much scarier is that it has crept up so silently that I didn't see it, could not see it, until it was in full swing and that hasn't happened in months.  The full swing.  The carried on conversations.  The making dates to meet with people that don't exist.  The keeping good on those meetings.  Shoving my hands into my face.  Why didn't I see it from the start?  There's no forgetting or shake it off.  Just have to keep it in mind.  A safe with no lock.


///Gouryella - "Walhalla"  hang on for the break.   It's never as terrible as it seems, until it is.  But then you wake up and start again.