Tablesaw!

Vacation is ending, and I feel very alone.

I woke myself up at five a.m. to watch a sunrise that was obscured by clouds that weren't on the horizon last night and will be gone completely by the time we check out of the house at ten. Nobody else in this house or, apparently, any other nearby house had the desire to try same.

Two nights ago I slept in the lounge for the same reason, to set my alarm for five a.m. with the hope of watching the sun be on the wrong side of the day. I stayed up late drinking with my housemates and fell asleep to the susurrations of a slightly more than tipsy woman and her devoted lover, who stood a hawklike vigil over her while she drank water and whispered herself to sleep. The whole thing left me feeling odd.

I miss Ex, more right now than I have in a while, undoubtedly due, in no small part, to the fact that two of the most beautiful and brilliant women I've met are here in this house with me, both of whom bear a more than passing resemblance to Ex. When one walks by, glowing with love for her beau, my body twists in memory and anticipation. But I don't wish that Ex and I were still together and lying together on the beach, nor do I wish that one of the women here were with me instead of her actual boyfriend. I want something more encompassing and more fundamental.

When Ex and I broke up and I had my life-shattering breakdown, I lost a lot of people I love, not just Ex. "You have to love yourself before you can love anyone else" says an old saw, and I've seen enough to know it's true. I lost loves and friendships because I wasn't able to give them the love I once did. And for quite a while after that time, while I was rebuilding myself, I certainly didn't miss the requirement, the need to pour out love I didn't yet have.

It's about a year and a half later, and I've started to ache. It started when veek visited. She came to LA with an openness to be loved and a life I now envy so much, a life with many people with whom she can commune. I responded more earnestly than I could have expected, more emotionally than I had in over eighteen months, leaving my weak and trying to find, again, what I was missing.

I worry now. The ache of love shakes me all over, and I am not certain I can stay alive if warehouses of compassion must be left untouched to mold and mildew.

How do I tell the people here (and only certain people, at that) that I'd be willing to lay down my life for them? It's not so much a matter of friendship and camaraderie or good conversations and shared experiences, it's instinct. How can I do it without needing to disclaim, "And I'm not a crazy stalker-type, honest!" And how do I become a friend again when, within hours, everyone will once again be hundreds and thousands of miles away?

There's one person here, possibly (hopefully) two, who knows how I feel, and that is a blessing. I'd probably be feeling less disoriented today if I'd had a chance to talk with either of them earlier yesterday.

I want a lover, today, so that I can hold her in my arms and tell her that I love her and that I will always love her and that I would do anything for her and that I would lay down my life for her and that I would go to the ends of the earth for her and that I would turn my back on Heaven's gates if the politics of God and the afterlife prevent her from entering Paradise. I want to hold her and while doing it, also say the same to so tell her so many others who wouldn't or couldn't understand.


The sun is up, and the clouds are gone, and I have to pack.

I've still had a great time, and enjoyed this week as much as, if not more than, any other vacation in my life, but card games and Clone Wars can wait for a while to be recorded, this can't. I hope you understand. See you at home.

I had to run some errands this morning: mailed some bills, filled a prescription (remember to pick it up on the way home from work) and picked up some blank videotapes to tape Sesame Street for veek. Since I was near the local Wherehouse, I figured I'd buy the tapes there. Since I was buying blank tapes at the Wherehouse, I figured I'd scan through the used CD collection. Since they were cheap, I figured I'd pick up Whatever and Ever Amen by Ben Folds Five and Born on a Pirate Ship by the Barenaked Ladies. These were both albums that I listened to quite a lot during my first two years of college in D.C., although I had never owned a copy of either. When I got home, I set Whatever playing on the stereo and lay down to rest, reading The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.

( Nostalgia and Melancholy... )

Yesterday I received an email from my ex-girlfriend letting me know that she was engaged. I have yet to respond.

It was a difficult break-up, but I'm over the fact that we've broken up and that's just how it's going to be from now on. The problem is that the break-up was and is enmeshed with my battle with depression. A short version of the story goes: "She broke up with me over a year ago because my depression had become so acute that my personality became almost unrecognizable. After she said so to my face, I cleaned up my act, but we remained broken up."

So now, I've been depressionless for a long time, but this girl still brings the pain and agony of that time to me. It's nothing to do with her, she's just the catalyst. In my mind, I know that she's happy, and I'm glad, and I wish her the best. But in my heart, there's still a very tender wound. Of course, she didn't make the wound either. I did. And that makes it harder to heal.

I've tried the "let's stay friends" thing. We were very close friends before we dated, and she is one of the smartest people I've ever met; but the association of her with my depression and angst is still too strong. I wonder, sometimes, if I saw her again, in a different situation, things might be better--just to have another image of her after this event, a new image that doesn't have me sobbing or trembling. But who knows if that will work either. Time heals all wounds, say the people who have to say something, but some take longer than other. And when I come to a point like this, I almost feel as though I'm letting her down again, as though I'm letting my depression keep my from being even a friend to her. Almost. I know that it isn't true.

(Side note that it doesn't help that her new fiancee is the guy who she was seeing when we broke up. Lots of negativity there, mostly jealousy and self-loathing, so I've absolutely no basis for objective thought in that matter.)

The whole thing resides in an emotional blind spot--or maybe less of a blind spot than a sunspot, bright light that burns the eye upon examination. So even after my emotions have settled I can still think of nothing to say.