16 September 2012

A view from afar.

I saw him yesterday.

From afar.  

He was sitting on the bench in the park, the weight of the world, if not the universe on his shoulders.  I watched him, his expressions, his reactions.  His pain.

And it took me back, right back to that time he had told me about his wants, his needs, his desires.  It took me back to that moment where his vulnerability was so clear, it took me back to that moment when he had come to me and told me about what had happened with his wife, her reactions at her discoveries.  It took me back to our "sliding doors" moment, the things we shared, the things we explored.

His vulnerability had always drawn me to him.  It wasn't a weakness or an issue, it wasn't a failing or a problem, it was beautiful. And his vulnerability touched me then, just in the way it always had. I remembered that night, where we had curled up on the sofa, his head in my lap, my hand gently stroking his hair while he talked.

I wanted to do that right then.  To walk over to him, to stroke his head and gently soothe out the pain and the stress that was obviously overwhelming him right now.  I wanted to touch him, hold him. Hurt him.  His vulnerability always had a way of awakening the sadistic beast even without him realising, or even trying to.

I've missed him.  But I remembered the last time I saw him.  The letting go that was right, but incredibly hard.  I remembered then his grip on my hand, the sparks that is sent coursing through me.  We have shared so many moments over the years.

And I've missed him.

I had hoped that in letting go, that he would have moved on to find a life to fulfill him, in the way that he needs, the way that he wanted.  I had hoped that he was happy.  But watching him then, he looked far from happy.

I know that we just aren't on the same page, not really.  And that is incredibly hard to admit when there's so many shared lines, shared chapters.  But, we want a different outcome, our stories are not the same, there is no happy ending ~ there never could be.  But it is hard, incredibly hard when there is common ground, common feelings, a shared attachment, a meeting of opposites.

And as I stood and watched him, I wished that it could have been different.  I wish that the ending could have been happy, but, while it could have had so much happiness within it, there would always have been things missing.  Things not right.  However hard, however much it broke my heart, it was for the best.

Sometimes letting someone go is the hardest thing in the world, but, I did it for him, for the right reasons. Although seeing his pain, his sadness. Although seeing that look in his eyes right then, I felt angry that someone or something was causing him those feelings.

I wanted to hold him. Soothe him. Tell him it would be alright.  Instead I could do none of those things except stand and watch him and hoping he would be, will he be ok?

"Maybe JoJo. Maybe"


15 September 2012

Strange how life works.

"I have a million things to talk to you about. All I want in this world is you. I want to see you and talk. I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning."

Haruki Murakami

If only.

If only it were that simple.  If only it were possible.

But it isn't.

It is never possible to go back to the beginning, because in doing so, we would wipe out all of the things that have been, the things that have been shared. The experiences, the feelings, the moments shared, the things explored.  It isn't possible to wipe that out.  It isn't possible to forget it or wipe the slate clean.  But in a perfect world, things would be possible, but then it would be that everything from the beginning would have been just perfect.

"It’s so strange how life works: You want something and you wait and wait and feel like it’s taking forever to come. Then it happens and it’s over and all you want to do is curl back up in that moment before things changed."
— Lauren Oliver 

To go back to that moment, the time before things changed . . .it's not possible either, but while it wouldn't be the right thing, it would be good to go back to that moment.

So often that I think of things that I would have shared with you, things that we would have talked about.  There have even been times when I have thought I must tell you this or that.  And then realised that isn't possible either.

It is strange how life works.

14 September 2012


You are such an ASSHOLE!

End of.

Surviving surgery and lack of control!

I am now 3 weeks post surgery.

I am alive.

No matter how many people said "you will be fine", when you have a fear of something a million or more people could say that, but you don't or cannot actually believe them.

So yes, I survived the anaesthetic and the days are passing with a good recovery, I feel more tired which as an insomniac hasn't been too bad a thing to be honest, but, it does drain away the motivation for things that I'd love or want to be doing.  Still, in the longer term, it will be better. *I* will be better and things will be too, that is what counts and what I'm working towards.

And I hope that I will slowly be able to get back to writing, or more so, there being the motivation and want to do so.

When I was talking to the rather nice (and yes incredibly sexy!) anaesthetist prior to my surgery I said to him that I didn't mind what he did, as long as he woke me up at the end.  He looked at me and asked "do you not like not being in control?" 

I smiled.  He would never know what I was actually smiling for, but I smiled at him and said "No, I don't."

And it made me realise that one of the things about going under was that it was something I had no control over, that I couldn't control what my body or anything else was doing while sedated.  As I walked into the theatre and settled onto the bed, as they started to secure my arms down with straps it was a rather awful feeling.  Yes in my life before I have been restrained and tied down (a long time ago now mind!) but, it was a very surreal feeling, a very strange experience and one that I wasn't comfortable with.

And as I drifted off into the land of sleep, the light being the last thing I saw as I drifted into a rather wonderful but incredibly vivid dream, my thoughts were that no, I don't like not being in control.

But then, I already knew that *smiles*