Me: "Oh, you're in deep shit."
I keep thinking back to Rothenberg's book... Improvise!!! Emotions are like mud: I get stuck in it and, after fitfully trying to get unstuck, I have to get out of the vehicle that got me there and walk to dryer ground.
I'm still spinning tires.
It's such a long process for me, but it is a process... I'm not stagnant, unmoving, pitifully pout-ful, useless (well...), unthinking, unmotivated, depressed, oppressed, selfish, negative, ugly, worthless... although, I might go through those moments, I am working towards a stronger me.
I'm improvising slowly.
This I know... I can never be quite as idealistic with love again. I'll never assume that, because I've asked a few simple questions, or made certain statements, that I am understood and/or safe... If, indeed this has been about religion, then I was caught completely off guard. I'll never allow myself to be caught in the whirl-wind of love again... I will constantly search for answers, and definitions. I can never be safe, nor can I stomach the idea of going through this again, ever. Fuck, sometimes I am so naive.
What I thought was possible, what I always dreamed of, has been shattered. The place I had been searching for my entire life: a safe-haven where, when there, everything in the world was perfect, has vanished in a nightmare and reality is the brisk morning air, bringing me back to a lonely world.
I've lost my faith in love, and now have only myself...
This is not her fault... and, although there are issues left unresolved (for me), I realize that my expectations were influenced by too many fairy tales.
Nietzsche: "God is Dead!"
Me: "Love is Dead!"
And, now I must get out and walk... The mud might be thick, and continue for a long distance, but I will find dryer ground... I will find my higher ground.
Leaving behind: a shattered world-view and, eventually, the fragments of the only unconditional love I will ever have. That is the vehicle that got me here.
What I will hold onto: My honesty. My dignity. The faith I have in myself. My sensitivity. My compassion. My ability to suffer. My ability to Love. My ability to see and cherish beauty. The capacity to love as much as I do (which I am beginning to think exceeds that of most mortals).
And, once have recovered, I will be a calloused old man... more wise in his dealings with other people and more fit for nature's cruel abuse. But, as of this day, I am still fragile little me... longing to be held in her arms, wanting to be safe all over again.
I only hope she knows how beautiful I honestly feel she is. She will never be a "beautiful memory," for she will always be sitting in the moment that grows through me. She is a special person... and, how I feel for her is a representation of everything I find amazing in this world. Because of this, I will always be her friend. I will always be here for her. I will always be...