. Ignorance or denial? Either way, neither is bliss .

Most times you just can't help the feelings, as sick as you feel of them, coming over and over like waves washing ashore. And the thoughts...often the thoughts, the questions, and then the feelings. And if you have silly sensibilities like mine, you will want to indulge...can't really help but indulge and feel confused. Until you realise you're indulging and then you get sick of it and wonder why you're so silly. Bring out the pity party. I do wish I was more sensible. I do envy the more pragmatic folks who can compartmentalise easier perhaps...well...they do something and just somehow don't feel the intensity, or are able to see these feelings in all their silly glory and pish posh them aside, easy peasy.

But I'm not one of those people. I try my best to be. It's a wonderful life they seemingly lead. I can only imagine of course. (And people so often tell me I am. But really, with the stupidity that goes on in my head, I wonder how much they're lying, and/or how deluded with love for me they are, or perhaps how well I act.) And having silly sensibilities, I pooh-pooh others during their silly moments...moments when I feel the complete unnecessariness of the silliness and am able to pish posh them aside. Then I fall into one of them and get reminded again why I should be less judgemental. And get reminded how stupidly judgemental I can be. Oh dear. Silly cycle.

And then I attempt to stop myself. Sometimes I succeed. Most times I just wonder if I must be blind and deluded like the other blind deluded people I rant about. How can it be that just a few paltry short months can have such an effect to last all those years. But then the worst was the couple of isolated days after, with the "explanations" and "apologies". Always the apologies that I buy so easily and the hope I unwillingly want to give up. I blindly cling onto. Why do I keep beating a dead horse? My pragmatic side can clearly see how dead it is, but that other side...that other side that buys it all... it refuses to believe that the words, the exchanges, the moments and connections weren't true at all; perhaps it's pride that wants to keep the horse alive so that I would not be the fool that kept beating the dead horse. But it is also pride that says fuck it man...it's a dead horse!

How much of a fool am I, really? And if I am a huge, huge fool, does that make you a giant bastard? Or is it really just all my own foolish doing?

Either way, I really do not know how to be the better person. I do not know how to do this with the peace and magnanimity of the grown-up, well-adjusted, loving, sensible person with foresight and fairness. I wish I did, especially with the peace and love and acceptingness shit but I don't. All I can do is regard you with suspicion, blame you in my head and wonder about the extent of my delusion. I actually feel really small about it. And if what you said is true, maybe you might feel it too. But if it's not, balls to me for being such a fool. Because after all that, unfortunately for me, I still have a great...um...love? fondness?...well.....a nice feelingness.... for you. A tenderness if you will, you bloody bastard. She said, "yeah so show you know what's going on, you acknowledge that; but you don't give a flying fuck anymore. you really don't care,".

Great advice I thought. Ah, but I do care.

It's the foolish sensibilities.

What can I do to make this better? To bring myself some peace?

Strange how sometimes the briefest moments (in comparison to life's entirety) can leave such indelible marks. Yet, come to think of it, I have now known (of) you for over a half decade. You bloody bastard.


I don't see myself permanently ending this foolishness anytime soon. But for now, I shall cease to beat the drum. For now, just for now. At least for now.




Edit: The foolishness finally did end, so naturally, all on its own, with so much relief, Sept 2018.