Voices

I've only been able to process what happened in little bits and pieces. Even this entry is coming to me in a completely new way, not a purge but a need to go slow, not to hurt myself by releasing it too quickly.

who drew the line, who drew the line between you and me?

I have actually learned something this time. Imagine, all these years of mystery, finally coming to some conclusions that make sense.

Those conclusions are nebulous at best, but have led to some new rules.

1. Never trust anyone.

2. Especially, never trust anyone who makes promises about a long and happy future when they barely know you. I mean, me. I seem to attract people who want to do that. They are lying. Mostly they don't know it when they make the promises, but they lie.

...who drew the line, that cuts to the skin, buries me in, tell me who drew the line...

3. Never trust anyone.

(lie, as darkness hardens.
lie of our reunion.
o lie, if god is sleeping,
o i believe you now.)

I lost a lot. But I didn't lose what I thought I had lost, when everything went sour last month.

You see, as long as I've been able to write, I've had a small group of quiet voices who have been crucial to my well-being, though I don't think most of them know it. In the 1980s and early 1990s they were pen pals met on road trips or friends-of-friends, who sent me letters and cassette tapes in elaborately decorated envelopes.

Later these voices came in via email, mostly. People who have little to no part in my daily life, but now and then take the time to write me a long letter, to which I respond in kind.

Like everyone else online, I have chat buddies and other kinds of long-distance friends, but the ones who write letters are my foundation. They are wise, they are loving, they are kind and generous people who only want to be heard and to listen in return.

In this day and age there aren't many people who want that. People want instant, right now, text me, IM me, let me see you on webcam. There are a few letter-writers left, but not many. And I need them.

I lost one of them, and a very precious one indeed, someone I expected to be among my quiet voices for many years. I lost him because I thought we could be good friends in real life. I was wrong...truthfully, I can't be good friends with anyone in real life. It just doesn't work. Ever.

But I didn't lose a lover, not really. I lost someone who said she loved me and then kept me at arms' length for months so that we wouldn't really get to know each other properly. I lost someone who got angry at me, often, for reasons that made no sense to me. I never, ever could have been good enough to bring her happiness, no matter how hard I tried. And we never really knew each other at all.

The last comment she left here, two entries ago, is proof...the entry is about how much the truth sucks, and she said she would show me a different reality.

Instead, I got more of the same reality.

And so, in the end, I lost one of my voices. He'll be silent forever now. I'll miss him, but I won't ever try to bring one of my voices into my real world again. My reality is too twisted and warped and broken. Better to keep my distance, as I always have done in the past.

I learned. I'm not sure if I said here what I meant to say...but I learned.