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Date: Janury 2005
THE PAIN OF THE PRESENT
A little over a week ago, I wanted to spill blood. I think about things he said and still feel that way, although the pain has lessened considerably...and much faster than I thought. Or maybe I'm just blocking out of my memory what caused it. But the pain of the present isn't about what happened in the past - the things he said, the way he made me feel - it's about what won't happen in the future. It's about not being able to hold on to my dreams.
With one revelation, I had to let them go. I thought I already had, to be honest. I thought that I had accepted what would never be and held out no hope of it. But I was wrong. And now there were things I had been holding onto that could never be. Never.
Never is an awesome word, like the real meaning of nothing. Never. It can't be done. There's no possibility. It will never happen. Even if some *thing* did happen, it can never be what it would've been. And I can never go back to the way it was before. It is almost unfathomable and I don't know how to fight against it. I don't understand why I can't fly around the world like Superman and undo things.
I had put his picture in a scrapbook with his name and a little happy face. And for a few days, I couldn't look at him. Now, I can, albeit, differently. What worries me most, though, is how quickly the pain has faded. I can't help it...he is my salvation. Even if he is the unwitting cause of my inner anguish, he is the only one who can salve it. That is what worries me. Of all my friends, none give me as much peace and comfort as he does.
But what does my returning placidity mean for the future? I fear when that present comes, the pain will return.