I have been struggling lately. I have been writing in other places. Writing in paper places. I have been writing the things I have been thinking, as I seem to do here. Trying to see what I’m thinking, I think. Trying not to say too much about something that involves someone that I know reads this thing. Does that form of censorship (though it does not stop me from writing) defeat the purpose of this place? Don’t I want this place to be where I can come to write anything? How do other people feel about their lives being an open book to the world, as seen through my interpretation of it, my part in it? Is it even safe to have meaningful, emotional relationships with people, knowing that I will want to write everything about it here, knowing that they will be reading what I put here? Is it just a matter of being more honest than is expected, or is it overstepping the “understood” boundaries of privacy?
Category: Relationships
I miss her
I miss her so much.
It hit me again last night. A friend of mine who I hadn’t seen in a while, who is not aware of the events that transpired in the last year or more, brought up Sara. Specifically brought up memories of the sort of relationship I had with Sara when we were first dating, years ago. He meant nothing by it, and in the context it was a reasonable thing to do. In fact, I didn’t even overreact to it at the time, but it got me to thinking and it got me to feeling about how much she has been a part of my life and for how long.
Friday, 7/6/01, 10:57:04 (3.6.10.-2)
I turned off the TV, looked at the time, and said to myself just a moment ago “It’s eleven O’clock, and you can never talk to Sara again.” I’m still not used to the idea of that. I used to be able to talk to her … whenever it occurred to me to do so. I used to be allowed to love her. Now even just thinking about her is just a sign that I “haven’t moved on with my life.” Nowadays thinking about any of the people that I’ve loved is just living in the past. What can I do? I still love them. Their memory is recent on my heart, and their impression is still fresh on my life. I know how to live without them, but they will always live with me in my heart, and it causes me great strain to be this way.
International Postage
So I sent the first CD to Spain yesterday. There probably won’t be very many of them. I didn’t even include a note or a message or a memo or a sticky note or a letter with this one. I’m not sure whether I’ll send anything other than the CDs on their own and then not anything after that. I think that that seems like what I’m supposed to do: complete the task I said I would and try not to prolong the increasingly futile attempts at maintaining a connection that she doesn’t want. That is not what it feels like I should do, but sometimes feelings cause problems for the people who aren’t feeling them.
He’s just this guy, you know?
I have felt a little smothered, though I realize now that I have behaved in precisely the same manner with other people. Is it unfair of me to hold other people to a standard that I myself have failed to meet in the past, or is it too forgiving for me to allow others to trespass in a way that I would not allow myself? He really is a great guy, and he seems to have the right idea about what a relationship should be about, but … there are a couple of things on my mind.