I just did some housecleaning, removing posts that contained too much identifying information. Having read through the archives, it was clear that nearly anyone who knows me (offline or online) would have recognised me through what I'd said about myself.
So I fixed it. (Wouldn't it be nice if we could fix life like that?) There is still enough here that someone who knew me really well could work out that this is my work, but really, what are the chances of someone who knows me really well stumbling upon this blog and caring enough to read it all? Not bloody likely. Most of the people who know me well can't even be bothered to read my more public blog. So this will remain a safe haven, so mote it be.
My mind feels sharp today, sharp and edgy both, easily cutting through thoughts and decisions whilst ready to snap at any interruptions.
Still thinking of J a lot, yet resisting the temptation to do another search. I hate the searching, always done with my heart in my throat, fearing that I'll find him as strongly as I hope.
Funny thing is, I don't wish him well. I hope he leaves no traces on the Internet because he is homeless or institutionalised and has no Internet access. I hope that, even as I think on how much I still want him and love him and miss him. If he's really not online anymore, his life must look totally different now. If he is online somehow, then I have reason to be frightened, because he's learned his lesson- learned to cover his tracks and not be open about what he is.
In two days I will see M, my current lover again. Months ago I might have said that he was the "love of my life", but on our last few visits, I sense things between us becoming stale and boring, and my interest waning.
Having carried a torch for M for five years now, never dimming because of the necessary distance between us. It was the best thing for making the energy last as long as possible, but now each time I see him I wonder if it should be the last time.
Of course, I also know that if I break things off with M I will immediately regret it, and pine for him. So I'll wait, maybe, and let him decide what he wants. Maybe.
What kind of love is this that keeps me
Hanging on
Despite everything it’s doing to me?
What is this love that keeps me coming
Back for more
When it will only end in misery?
Monday, July 09, 2007
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Coming Back
*blows the dust off this old blog*
Nobody's reading this anymore, right? After all, I haven't updated in over a year.
But my mind is starting to go back to strange places again, so here I am, poking around in dark corners that I really should be leaving alone.
His name was J. I loved him. I would even go so far as to say that I've never loved anyone as much as I loved him...though that might be a lie, because we didn't stay together long enough for that initial euphoric infatuation to change into something more sane.
But, gods, I loved him. And now, seven years since I last saw him, six years since I last talked to him, he's here on my mind again, unbidden.
He wanted me to call him "Daddy", though he was only a few years older than me. I liked that. It turned me on for some reason, despite- or maybe because of- the molestation I endured as a child. It turned him on, too.
I have looked for him a few times since it ended, but never found even a trace. That makes sense, considering how and why it ended, and how he ended up. I doubt he would want me to find him, and if he found me, I think he would probably kill me.
And I don't mean that in the typical "my boyfriend's gonna kill me" hyperbole. I think J. would murder me, because he was more than capable of murder. As a matter of fact, in our last conversations I begged him to promise that he woud kill me rather than leave me again, and he didn't hesitate to tell me that the day would come where he would strangle the breath out of me and bury my body in some hidden place.
I still love him. Even after what he did. When I'm alone, and let myself slip into that danger zone of fantasy that I keep hidden from the world, it's him that I cry out for in the final moment of ecstasy.
every moment marked
with apparitions of your soul
i’m ever swiftly moving
trying to escape this desire
the yearning to be near you
i do what I have to do
but I have the sense to recognize
that I don’t know how
to let you go
- Sarah McLachlan
Nobody's reading this anymore, right? After all, I haven't updated in over a year.
But my mind is starting to go back to strange places again, so here I am, poking around in dark corners that I really should be leaving alone.
His name was J. I loved him. I would even go so far as to say that I've never loved anyone as much as I loved him...though that might be a lie, because we didn't stay together long enough for that initial euphoric infatuation to change into something more sane.
But, gods, I loved him. And now, seven years since I last saw him, six years since I last talked to him, he's here on my mind again, unbidden.
He wanted me to call him "Daddy", though he was only a few years older than me. I liked that. It turned me on for some reason, despite- or maybe because of- the molestation I endured as a child. It turned him on, too.
I have looked for him a few times since it ended, but never found even a trace. That makes sense, considering how and why it ended, and how he ended up. I doubt he would want me to find him, and if he found me, I think he would probably kill me.
And I don't mean that in the typical "my boyfriend's gonna kill me" hyperbole. I think J. would murder me, because he was more than capable of murder. As a matter of fact, in our last conversations I begged him to promise that he woud kill me rather than leave me again, and he didn't hesitate to tell me that the day would come where he would strangle the breath out of me and bury my body in some hidden place.
I still love him. Even after what he did. When I'm alone, and let myself slip into that danger zone of fantasy that I keep hidden from the world, it's him that I cry out for in the final moment of ecstasy.
every moment marked
with apparitions of your soul
i’m ever swiftly moving
trying to escape this desire
the yearning to be near you
i do what I have to do
but I have the sense to recognize
that I don’t know how
to let you go
- Sarah McLachlan
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