I'm losing the grip on reality. It's an eery feeling that I can't shake off. I constantly read about other worlds, placing myself into those magical stories. I'm wearing them like a second skin around me, dreaming, wishing so hard as to bend the walls of everyday existence. Escaping any company, any distraction, confined in my body but not imprisoned by its limits, I weave a net of insanity with my thoughts. I start to understand why I never wanted to be alone. Eventhough I loathed invasions on my privacy, I'd do nothing to prevent them. Now I see why. I see why I chose the life I'm living now, the men I'm with, my destiny. Because I can't escape the power of my imagination by myself. I need iron restraints to keep my feet on the ground. The soothing pressure of a strong arm around my waist, the intellectual challenge of doing research, the fear of being ridiculed by the ones I hold dear. Without all those, I slip into a self inflicted scizophrenia. Because life is never as interesting as what the mind is capable of producing. And passion, almost materialized by unsatisfied desires, pushes me to the edge. One more month, and I'd be lost forever...
Well, I only have one more week, to be in this state. Then I'll be back to the city again, to the crowds, friends and family, and I'll behave. My mind will be too busy reading the minds of others, planing my steps, avoiding confrontations, enjoying conversations. And when I'm back to my little house, the dreams will be gone.
What if I had a chance? What if I didn't fear about anyone missing me, anyone being upset, and let go of reality? What if I could slip into a coma, doing nothing but sleeping, dreaming? Well, it would be easy, no? In dreams everything turns out just right, in our thoughts we are the most beautiful, the most desired, the most succesful. It's a lot easier than to work for it. One might as well work for a whole lifetime, achieving nothing but a flimsy wreath of flowers at the funeral. Youth is temporary, so is strength and fulfillment. One you lose, and there is no going back, the others come and go as they please. I'm not strong. My will is weak, resisting temptations is not an art that I could master. And then there is him. All my speeches of emancipation are worthless. I miss him, not just the way one misses a lover, I miss him as I miss firm ground beneath my feet. The only thing that binds me to mundane truth, against the seduction of living in a limbo of suspended life, comatose, in my dreams. That's why I love him, among other things, while I am incapable of loving anything/anyone else.
I wonder what his reasons are though...
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Dear Diary,
Seems like I just hit that age where everyone around me seems to be getting married. 4 new weddings just this month, all people of my age, or younger. And twice as many in the previous months. Weird. Or maybe not. I don't know.
I'm really glad that my choice of lifestyle kind of protects me from hearing the question too many times. I know that people look at me and think, 'when?'. Well, that's only to be expected, especially since I'm with the same guy for 8 years. None of the people getting married have been together for so long. The only thing that stops people from actually asking the question is that I'm not around long enough for them to ask it. Oh, and also, that I still count as a student. Even though it's my job now, and I'm getting paid for it, I'm still a student. That helps, really. People stop and think, well, maybe once she graduates... Not that I care what they think though, but I tend to get irritated when people expect me to answer them about something so profoundly personal.
'When?' Or rather 'if?'.
I can't say I don't have my doubts. The question is there, unspoken, but the answer is taken for granted. Because, you know, that's what you do. You marry the man you love. There is certainly no doubt about my love. It's not a fairy tale sort, nothing like a movie or a song. It's a fact, solid as a rock. But... One doesn't get married to the person, no? It's the whole package. It's a package that supposed to make you change, it supposed to make you more responsible. You have to think about everything you do, you have to seek approval of a multitude of people that you didn't even felt their existence before. Especially, if that's how your significant other expects you to act.
This is getting too personal. I just wanted to write my general thoughts about the subject but I'm returning to the same point again and again. If I would, for a moment, believe such a thing as soul, I'd say mine is just an untamed beast. Even the sight of a possible confinement sends me running to the hills. I don't even like when people try to give me advice, on anything. My most valued possession is my freedom, I can only sacrifice a small amount for the sake of the man I value above all, and I'm not really very successful in that. Not that I don't want to, I just can't. So what if I'm forced to consider not just his feelings, but a bunch of other people's, too? Other people that frankly, for the most part I don't give a damn about, may be from my side or his. I don't give a damn about no one, I guess, when it comes to my place in life. Even the ones dearest to me get horrified by my crude reactions when they insist on expressing their opinions about my choices. Either that, or I simply don't listen, doing the mental equivalent of covering my ears and singing loudly. And next time I make sure that I avoid the subject. Maybe that's a bad thing in itself. But everyone knows, I take full responsibility for my actions, I gladly admit that if things go wrong, it's my own fucking fault. Well, likewise, if things turn out right, I'm happy to accept the praise. And I really like it that way.
Back to our subject. Do I need to make the effort? Do I need to consider a change? Do I owe him that much? Or is it fair to expect him to accept me the way I am. Not that I was any different anytime. Will I always feel the same way about things? Huh, I guess I'll just have to wait and see.
I'm really glad that my choice of lifestyle kind of protects me from hearing the question too many times. I know that people look at me and think, 'when?'. Well, that's only to be expected, especially since I'm with the same guy for 8 years. None of the people getting married have been together for so long. The only thing that stops people from actually asking the question is that I'm not around long enough for them to ask it. Oh, and also, that I still count as a student. Even though it's my job now, and I'm getting paid for it, I'm still a student. That helps, really. People stop and think, well, maybe once she graduates... Not that I care what they think though, but I tend to get irritated when people expect me to answer them about something so profoundly personal.
'When?' Or rather 'if?'.
I can't say I don't have my doubts. The question is there, unspoken, but the answer is taken for granted. Because, you know, that's what you do. You marry the man you love. There is certainly no doubt about my love. It's not a fairy tale sort, nothing like a movie or a song. It's a fact, solid as a rock. But... One doesn't get married to the person, no? It's the whole package. It's a package that supposed to make you change, it supposed to make you more responsible. You have to think about everything you do, you have to seek approval of a multitude of people that you didn't even felt their existence before. Especially, if that's how your significant other expects you to act.
This is getting too personal. I just wanted to write my general thoughts about the subject but I'm returning to the same point again and again. If I would, for a moment, believe such a thing as soul, I'd say mine is just an untamed beast. Even the sight of a possible confinement sends me running to the hills. I don't even like when people try to give me advice, on anything. My most valued possession is my freedom, I can only sacrifice a small amount for the sake of the man I value above all, and I'm not really very successful in that. Not that I don't want to, I just can't. So what if I'm forced to consider not just his feelings, but a bunch of other people's, too? Other people that frankly, for the most part I don't give a damn about, may be from my side or his. I don't give a damn about no one, I guess, when it comes to my place in life. Even the ones dearest to me get horrified by my crude reactions when they insist on expressing their opinions about my choices. Either that, or I simply don't listen, doing the mental equivalent of covering my ears and singing loudly. And next time I make sure that I avoid the subject. Maybe that's a bad thing in itself. But everyone knows, I take full responsibility for my actions, I gladly admit that if things go wrong, it's my own fucking fault. Well, likewise, if things turn out right, I'm happy to accept the praise. And I really like it that way.
Back to our subject. Do I need to make the effort? Do I need to consider a change? Do I owe him that much? Or is it fair to expect him to accept me the way I am. Not that I was any different anytime. Will I always feel the same way about things? Huh, I guess I'll just have to wait and see.
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