Take Another Look

{February 14, 2010}   charity case

What is the going rate these days? I guess I’m a charity case. And a hard one. I should know better than to even think about writing something to Downey like “Happy Valentines day” because he might think too much of it, or actually maybe I’d think too much about it or he would assume I’m thinking or instilling too much into it, a lot of that has been going around these days, maybe I don’t always think as much as he thinks. The problem is bells, you see, so many can’t be unrung, and a lot of them I rung as a test or mainly to see what he would ring. Then there were no bells at all except I kept swinging but I didn’t hear his bells anymore, so I just wildly swung contradictory bells because how could I have a meaningful discourse with myself? But you are missing the point if you think this was ever about communication. I would never leave somebody behind, I think, because it seemed like the things he said he said when he meant it, and now he is trying to unring that, and I let myself buy it? I mean past tense on all this maybe. “things are fluid” and lots of other things that are not really true but what can you say you can’t you don’t say you let them ring contradictory bells too and you hide behind them. Alone I don’t have to think about it because he never came here but the one time he did he loved it, and if there is anything I can blame it on it is that he didn’t spend enough time in my space making my concessions. I thought it could exist anywhere under any conditions but certain conditions hailed on me like poisonous scorpions falling like rain. I swung my bat at the ground ready to kill and instead I don’t know what I did. I feel sad on occasions like this.  I want to know what it really was, because honestly, there must have been something. Oh no, there wasn’t. There has to be something he tells other people the way he told me things he didn’t tell other people. Maybe I was no longer a safe place, a safe person. That is it, really, that’s all there is, I became too full of things he didn’t want to mean, but he didn’t want to not mean them either, and now he needs a new blank slate. Doesn’t he understand I know all too well about blank slates that any day it could be a blank slate? I know how to do that I’ve done it a thousand times for B I think. I wish you could know everything and have your interpretation of it that’s how lonely it is to leave you behind. It’s not for me. Maybe if I make lots of money and become famous then you won’t be afraid of me but more likely I’d just be more like a fire grenade, I feel like anything I do is a fire you can’t put out these days. Only my tears would put them out buckets and buckets of them but oddly they seem to cause strange evacuations that result in more fires, how that can be possible I don’t know. Maybe I do know but I mean the opposite and all this carnage when I wanted such peace. In a speeding way of course. I don’t know how to end this. What if somebody is reading this? Read away. Don’t think. Don’t feel. I don’t understand and it hurts, I am not afraid of pain but I am afraid of this loss.


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