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Eighth acumen

(A2): [Personal noun]: Quasi-paramour.

Nothing new has happened aside from my over analysing everything, that is. I keep seeing you on a regular basis, which is out of my control. It’s not something I have grown used to, in that I still can’t just ignore it. I keep telling myself to just move on and treat everything as if it was a regular day but I cannot function properly. There’s one moment, when we say goodbye, that I play on a loop. Maybe it’s because you’re so close then. It’s bittersweet because while it’s something that I think I look forward to,  it also marks the last I’ll see of you for the day. Perhaps that is what makes it that much harder on me once I’ve left; having just had you so close. Say what you will, while it is insignificant, I can’t stop it from meaning that much to me. With each day I think I come to the bitter realisation that you don’t feel the same. Not that I’m some expert on interactions but I feel like there’s this unbreachable distance between us. Something in your manner which I -perhaps mistakenly- read as indifference, bar from the odd moment where -I think- your eye or your smile betrays a longing. But that’s subjective, I’m probably interpreting it wrongly, I have no insight into your thoughts. I know not wether you’re transparent with them or calculated with what you show. I don’t know what would be worse for me.

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Seventh acumen

(A2): [Personal noun]: Quasi-paramour.

And down I go. I drift without knowing, how far I’ll fall. Your words are life to my garden of thoughts in which like bindweed you take over. Caution, I must exercise. Yet foolishness, prevails. The fluttering ensuing from your presence lifts me up and I lose my ground. The guesswork predominates. Were I here or were I there, would I find myself in your path. I don’t fail to feel foolish while I ponder on these diverging paths which may or may not lead me to you. I have often felt like this before, I remember it is a way that were I sane I would avoid. I should run from it but these chains, this hold that you’ve unknowingly placed on me, bars me from doing so. And in that seemingly trite present we live in, hidden from your sight, my conundrum aggravates. In an offhand turn you chose to stay, to elongate our time. When faced with a choice you’d taken in an instant, you took it back, you chose to stay. It may not mean much, it may have been inconsequential. However, I cannot help but overthink it and try to find meaning in it. It’s that that makes it all the much harder to move away, to make an effort to cut my emotional losses and make a run for it. It would perhaps be wiser. Withdrawals from you would eventually fade. It is not realistic though. The more I try to act like one should, like I perhaps would, in hindsight act were I aiming to salvage my emotional wellbeing, the more I act injudiciously. Stolen glances while you think, glances that go unnoticed but would give me away were you looking, are a compulsion I ought not surrender to. I do. My right mind goes astray and concedes to these ill-advised needs. These moments linger and become a fog that  permeates the palace of my mind. A fog that breaks in through every crack, under every door. It doesn’t settle, so with every intake of breath my lungs fill with it. My senses fail and I am blind.

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Sixth acumen

(A2): [Personal noun]: Quasi-paramour.

Autumn ‘17

Humorous you think?

Why? Why can’t you stay away. Not by your own means but by chance it seems, I cannot help but keep crossing paths with you. Just when I think I’m safe, just when I’d looked back on it all and questioned the veracity of my previous claims. You stride back in and make them all reemerge from the depths of me. And every interaction breeds confusion in my head. Nothing is what is seems to be and I cannot make it all out. I find it so confusing to experience how hard it is to split my mind from my heart. At least it’s the closest I can get to describing it. My feelings, elude me. They run their course, irreverent.  What are the chances, what is it about you that cannot seem to keep us apart. Every single time, it happens regardless of how much I try to run. How humorous it is that in theory it is so easy to walk away but it seems like the universe is conspiring against me. When I know, you feel nothing of the sort. You know not what turmoil you cause in me. Bloody hell.

I want to see you. I miss you. Are you thinking of me? Why am I thinking of you? I miss you. I want to invent an excuse to see you. I cannot stop thinking about you. I close my eyes and I can see your face. I’m afraid I might be falling again, I don’t want you to be the only thing in my thoughts and I know that if I see you perhaps I’ll get my fix but then it’ll be that much harder for me to continue without you. What do I do? How do I go on?

One often hears about the dangers of falling in love with someone who, couldn’t love you back. Quite often. But never about the possibility of falling for someone who could fall for you but thinks -you- couldn’t. Possibility and ignorance versus cloaked understanding and unfeasibility. It’s probably like swimming upstream knowing there’s nothing waiting for you, the former would consciously stop themselves from investing in the latter, to protect themselves, to save energy. Never mind the struggle of the latter. The heavy doubt of their possibility for affection besides superficial affectation.

Even if you happened to turn around by chance for a second glance, would you catch my eyes in a glimpse. If you did, would you mold this in your mind to signify something else? How hard it is to act naturally when faced with an unfamiliar, frightening situation. And you’ve told me you’re somewhat defensive and would rather reject than be rejected. 

Fear.

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Fifth acumen

(A1) [Personal noun]: Inamorata.

Summer ‘17

I love you. With all my heart. Every inch of you is precious to me. I cannot live without you. And perhaps it is foolish to cling onto us. But I want to be foolish. I truly believe you are the one person who I belong to. You have the key to my heart and you know me better than I know myself. I adore everything about you. I’m sorry that I felt like I was drifting away, being taken by the wave, being dragged from you. But I’m finding my way back. I can always find my way back to you. I’m sorry that I thought of a life without you. I was temporarily stuck in a fiction and I needed time to recover from the blow. There is no-one in this world that could give me what you give me. No-one in this world that could understand my mind like you do. I’m sorry. My aching heart momentarily longed for the closeness we had and sought to compensate and twist the lack of physical intimacy this distance has imposed on us, elsewhere. It didn’t go anywhere. But I know, my true self lies with you, and it will always. We have a bond that cannot ever be broken, by distance or otherwise. I am yours.

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Fourth acumen

(A1) [Personal noun]: Inamorata.

Two weeks have gone by. I feel glimpses of euphoria from the dopamine rush triggered by my constant working out. The energy, the fuel of life in me has resurfaced and I feel excited by the world of possibilities ahead of me. However, there seems to be something that has shifted in me. Something which I feel like I haven’t dealt with, several times before. But now, perhaps because it’s happening -in the present- for lack of a better way of explaining it… it doesn’t seem like it will just go away. It refuses to be repressed. And I’ve know about it for as long as I can remember but I never fully understood it. I never had the clarity of mind to deal with it, which I feel like I have now, even with the muddled amounts of emotion and existential angst that permeate my mind; something that perhaps will be characteristic in adult life.

But how to act on it, which way to go? It doesn’t feel relevant at this point in time and yet it feel like the most pressing thing. I don’t want my life to change because of it. But somehow, someday, it must. But is it fair to keep you out of the loop much longer. Will that be a decision I will come to regret? Am I messing with something that doesn’t need to be messed with? Or am I not messing with it for fear of change, when if this goes the way I would plan it to go I would eventually have to deal with it anyways… and if there is something that must change - Why delay it for later and waste your time?

Nonetheless - I need you right now. And I think you need me too. Would it be caring or selfish to prolong this until there comes a time when we have both found our feet? Will we ever feel like we have found our feet? Or is this feeling of anticipation for the future actually a quintessential part of living? Would it make me a liar not to speak? Would it make me a bad person not to tell you?

My true self is not defined by who I’m with. Not limited. Not really. So, technically, it shouldn’t make a difference. However, does not exploring an area of yourself count as suppression? Does it go against my life maxim to leave uncharted territory in the map of me? Will it be an uncertainty that’ll turn into a time bomb. Will I tick and tick until my surroundings disintegrate?

I feel like you are a part of me. It’s not just you and me, it’s us. We are bound by time and feeling and body and mind and soul. I don't want to live in a world without you. I don’t want you to drop out of my life. I don’t know what I would do? If I could live. If I could breathe knowing that you’d move on. Because I don’t know if I ever would. If I ever could - live.

What do I want? Are we clinging on to each other because we both are at a place in our lives where the world, the establishment, the road - is treacherous and uncertain and harsh. Has our connection turned into a friendship? Can we regain our romance? Will we? Is it possible to re-kindle it at a distance. Is it foolish of us to remain together when we cannot lie together in each others embrace, which we need to survive? Will any other embrace ever feel as close as ours? I cannot fathom it. I don’t want to.

I don’t want to feel alone. I don’t want to lie in alone else’s arms. I’m scared, scared that this fucking distance is pulling us apart. That our bond is being stretched by time and slowly being chiselled away by powers out of our control. And I’m angry, angry at the walls that are put in place, that prevent us from being together, from living together, from sharing our lives. Looking back at the precious time we got to cherish in each others presence, makes my heart ache with longing. The shards of my memory keep my heart in place, enable it to keep on beating yet with every pump of blood they wedge themselves deeper and further torture my core. Every breath is ridden with pain and longing. Why? Why have we been thrown on separate sides of the ocean, doomed to pay our duties with time until we can once more be together at last.

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Third acumen

(A2): [Personal noun]: Quasi-paramour.

A week has passed. I have continued to live my life. To try and find joy in the little things. I feel much better, much freer. My mind has reached a state where it isn’t frenetic or ridden with anxiety. I’m not going to lie, it has only been a week and the remnants of what I felt for you still linger. I still secretly wish I’d bump into you in the street so we could talk. Just talk. It’s been so weird going through this without you. The contrast of pace. It felt like mourning someone. I felt like I went through all the feelings associated with a break-up. Funny, considering it wasn’t one. Distance has helped me look at it all in perspective. Make sense of it all. The strange, unlikely mess of it. The marred boundaries between fiction and reality have begun to reappear. It has brought me closer to myself I think, though at first I seemed so distant from the world, so caught up in my own mind. I think I managed to reclaim what willpower I had and get my shit together. Somehow it has also brought me closer to my friends, brought me closer to being who I am. Dropping the fear of the unknown. I miss you but not in the same way I did a couple of days ago. It feels like I’ve finally come out of the water and the jumble of chemical reactions our closeness had on my mind. It almost feels like a dream. Like coming out of ice water after being thrown in. I’m still drying up.

The thought of you steadily leaving my mind, drifting away with the current of time, soothes me. I’m no longer mad… If I was somewhat at one point. I understand now. Perspective is a wonderful thing. Highly underrated. It somehow manages to slip by one’s grip like salmon. I knew I’d get here but I didn’t know how long it’d take. I will move on, and I guess you will too, whatever your stance was. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly know. I don’t know if I want to. The scab of it is still fresh; no blood oozing but fresh to the touch, still a minor tingle, a perceivable strain; a scar in the making.

I’m unsure what to do with it. There remains a certain jolt of energy with the mention of your name, which I can now deal with, I can now understand. However, you’re still popping unexpectedly in my mind. Still in my thoughts. That, I don’t know how long will last. I hope for my sake that time continues to work it’s magic and that -you- don’t look back on your way down the stream.

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Second acumen

(A2): [Personal noun]: Quasi-paramour.

But once again, I fell prey, I gave in. Again. I made the mistake of looking for you once more. Deep down I knew something would come up and I wouldn’t be able to see you. I knew it. I don’t care if you do have work, if you are busy, if you have other commitments. For some reason I wanted to believe that in your mind you were experiencing the same as me, though evidently you aren’t. I hoped, I believed, that you were paralysed as I am by the crippling fear that what I felt was real. And somewhere inside me I think it might be, that’s why I wanted to see you. So that my mind could realise that in the past couple of days I have been suffering without reason, all based on a stupid preconception of who I think you are. And if only I had the chance of seeing you to prove myself wrong…. or right.

I don’t know what would be easier. To realise that it’s not just in my head and have to dismantle my life or to come to the realisation that it was just some sweat and stress induced paranoia. I don’t know what would be easier on me. Are you really the reason for this stress or is it something bigger that I am attributing to you?… What do I want with my life? Is it just a friend that I am looking for and the concept of it is all jumbled up in my head. That’s the thing, I don’t feel like I want to see anyone but you and that is killing me because I don’t know how to continue living, and it’s stupid. I feel like none of these emotions actually have a grounding on reality and that is what bothers me because it enters in conflict with who I believe I am and the life I have built for myself.

I don’t really want to fall back to the place where I’ve been far too many times where I cannot focus on the things that I want to focus on because I am caught up in banal bullshit that won’t even make a difference in four years. And it has happened before, I have been at this place before, so I know I can get over it but I cannot take any shortcuts and that’s what annoys me. Because I wish I could. I wish I could just turn back time and stop feeling in order to protect myself from pain.

Is that what I do in my daily life? Do I shy away from emotion? I don’t know if I do… What is it to be in touch with your emotions? Is it being impulsive or is it knowing that emotions are irrational sometimes and cannot be fully understood… and regardless of how much time I spend trying to figure this out and rationalising it, I can’t crack the code.

It still unsettles me and becomes the only thing I can focus on. But I know there is more to life than this, I am more than just this destroyed facade of a person that has all of a sudden inhabited my life. I know I’m still here and I can find joy in other things. Yet for some reason the only source of joy that my mind believes will calm me is - you. You are what I want at this point in my life. Regardless of all your flaws which I probably don’t even know about. Which brings me back to the reason why I want to see you in person, but that doesn’t seem like it is going to happen any time soon. Because I will -not- ask you to meet up, the ball is in your court, because these stupid social norms will deem, me asking you again as needy, which I am not. No. I will not do it. I will wait for you.

However, if you don’t need this closure as I need it then how long will I have to wait for this damned sense of closure. How long can I keep may heart dangling on a string stuck between two worlds. Can I just go back to my life after the floor has left the soles of my feet? Will I be able to? Or does moving on without any external motivation count as suppression? But then again, is it more dangerous for my emotional well-being to keep myself at this precipice? Am I hurting myself unnecessarily? This is what I don’t like; having to worry about this kind of shit. The uncertainty is killing me. It makes me feel like nothing is real, nothing is certain. Here I am. Where are you? Where have you gone? Why have you left? Or is it perhaps… That some twisted part of me, just wants to be desired. Whether of not I will go ahead with it?  Whatever it is. I am so sick of the constant paranoia, clinging on to the possibility of you contacting me. Can we really be friends after this? Do I want to? Do I need to? Will it just be like willingly jumping into a poisoned lake? To slowly decay. To mess with my own head. To fuck with my life. To turn everything upside down.

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First acumen

(A2): [Personal noun]: Quasi-paramour.

Spring ‘17

My mind is filling-in the gaps. I just met you and yet I can only see those little details that bring you that much closer to me. It is almost like you’d understand what is going on in my head. When in reality, I don’t know. My mind has been confused and tricked into thinking this from the false sense of closeness we experienced. A closeness forged through external factors beyond our control. A fondness that was manufactured by us in order to create a fiction.

Yet the mind works such odd ways, where sometimes it cannot distinguish between fiction and reality. It has happened to me before. The break in our psyche, the one we needed for this task, needs time to heal and bounce back to it’s original form. Which is why, at this point in time, my heart feels an imponderable and inexplicable sense of loss, that the sensible part of my mind credits to having had you around day after day. I am -and I know it- projecting wild reckless fantasies onto someone I barely know.

We did get close, I won’t deny it, but how much can you really know someone when the boundaries are marred by a fiction in which you are both complicit in. Yes, we seem to have many things in common, our conversations seemed effortless. But did this happen due to the circumstances we were placed in or was it truly us?

I know I’m romanticising many aspects of your character and blowing over the hints of that troubled self that lives within all of us. I shouldn’t believe in what you appear to promise because I haven’t experienced the darker aspects of your self. My mind sees you as I witnessed you and I cannot divide fiction from reality. How can I think this vision could ever be the whole truth? How can I stop my mind from painting your face in everything I see. From hearing your voice, that was, as of a mere week ago, that of an acquaintance - a stranger.

In my gut I want to keep you here, to hear your voice but I also know that it would be so much easier to just walk away. To let this frame of mind fade from sight and melt away. Than to keep it safe, as I feel I need to, when it will only bring me more unsightly pain and longing. The excitement, the rush, the chemical rose tint that I cannot distance myself from, is the root of it. But it feels real. Yet I - know - it’s that physical closeness I lacked, which was unearthed by planned, calculated, necessary fictional interactions. Not us. Not really.

I wish I could skip forward to the time when my heart has healed, my self has returned, my mind has recovered it’s sanity and you are just you; not someone I wish you’d be.  Life was so much easier before this. I feel broken. I feel empty.

The nearest door from which to escape this unbearable state of angst would be to hate you. Hate you for not making an effort to be here. Do you not miss me as much as I miss you? Are you experiencing the same as I and keeping it to yourself as well. I contacted you last. Is this your way of protecting yourself because you think this would never work. That we’d never be together? I don’t know if we would. Even if you were here, my gut tells me I’d jump but my mind, my mind, my mind wouldn’t know. Yet I still resent you for making me feel so alone. If I were to contact you would you leave me hanging again, make me feel stupid? I really want to see you… If I did, I know I’d feel just as distant as I do now. Having nor the fiction nor the guts to be where we were. Your lips ever so distant from mine. Forbidden now though they weren’t before.  

Funny how your luscious lips now flash in my mind, when I hadn’t noticed them when we weren’t pretending to be in love. Not until then did I lust for them. Await every opportunity to kiss them. If we hadn’t gone through that, would I feel the way I do? I don’t think so, but I don’t know. We are so different, I wish I had a glimpse of what we would be like together so I could move on and realise that I’m clinging onto smoke.

You’re so real, unlike everyone else who seems to hide behind a persona, a mask. Phony rhetoric and banal humour permeates society, but you’re exempt, at least you seem to be. Not that I’m imagining you don’t have struggles but you at least seem to have achieved a way of tackling it all with you truest self, and a humorous one at that. That stupid smile of yours is a constant as well, I hate that I love it, I hate that I remember it. Do you remember mine? Do you remember my laughs? What runs through your mind? I wonder. If only I could catch a glance. Not even that, a glimpse - into your mind to see where you stand. I keep wishing you’ll come out and tell me. My mind tells me that’d be quite out of character and is a highly unlikely possibility. That doesn’t stop my heart from rushing every time I hear my phone, though.

Is it pathetic to cling on to a dream of passion? To a soul that was forced to my own conceit and remains in a fiction. Somewhat, I guess. How do I stop it? I want to stop it. To forget about you, your smile, your lips, your hair, your laugh, your humour, your witticisms, your voice….

What are you doing man? Getting yourself hung up on someone? What good will it do? What good will come from it? None, you are just being ridiculous, you cannot be ruled by your broken mind, by your limited perception. Leave it alone, for your own good. Put it out of your mind. You are just hurting yourself, you are willingly accepting and opening the door for pain in your life when nothing is actually wrong. Why do you do this? I don’t understand. I’m so sick of it, just let it go. Let it be what it is but don’t dwell in it as you are. When will you understand not to mess with things and crave disorder in your life. There is no need man. No need. Let it go. For fuck’s sake. Stop playing with fire and get your shit together. This is just a fiction. Just a god dammed fiction. Not reality. Not something that actually happened, so quit running it through your mind because the more you mess with it the more fucked up it’s going to get. You’ve been through this before and you came out of it just fine, so there is no reason why it shouldn’t happen again. Quit. It. Enough is enough.