Obsession’s End

 

obsession is such an odd word -

it parades as romance, possession

but generally ends in depression -

it seems like love but is really an expression

of delusion, vanity and indiscretion

 

an empty vortex of concession

to the great gods of transgression

it rarely ends well, instead becomes a progression

of fear, denial, mania and suppression -

a soul sister to hate’s ugliness and aggression

 

ultimately, the exponential expression

of love’s greatest obsession

must end its heart-wrenching procession -

perhaps with the mind’s intercession

obsession can end.

 

 

how?

how can it still hurt so much?

how long will it go on?

how do i get beyond it?

how do i stop hating myself?

how do i live with him hating me?

how do i sleep?

how do i make it through a day without drugs to numb the pain?

how do i make a new life?

how?

 

Another Random Thought…

 

It’s odd, but lately all kinds of random little thoughts keep ocurring to me…today I tripped over another one: back in June, when you didn’t tell me the exact truth about someone hurting themself…When you admitted the truth to me about that, and told me that you wanted me to understand how “messed up” you are, well, I asked you then if that was it. Was there anything else about which you weren’t being really honest? Were there any more secrets?? Do you remember your answer? Your answer was, “No, Robin. There are no more secrets. I swear.” And I believed you – because you said we were a team, we were partners, we weren’t going to lie to each other, no matter what, because lack of communication had always been our biggest downfall — lack of honest, not-just-trying-to-say-what-each-thought-the-other -wanted-to-hear communication. Why didn’t you tell me THEN that you didn’t love me?

So now I am to believe that really, you lied to me the whole time? I mean, you must have known by June that you were lying just to make me happy. And yet you went on with it for another two months? Should I be flattered? Was I that good in bed? Nah, I’m sure that wasn’t it. I’m guessing I hadn’t quite filled you to the rim with good feelings by June, so you let me linger on, adoring you, planning for your arrival, letting you into the lives of my son and everyone in my family….because I believed you. Do you know how betrayed my son feels? Even more so, my sister. She was…so happy to have her brother back. Always you were the only one she ever loved and trusted. Ever. Just like me. And even now, months later, she wakes up crying over the wreckage you have left behind. She doesn’t understand why she is so affected by your … performance. I do, though. As you know, our lives have been spent being used and abandoned by every person who was handed the sacred office of protecting us. She never felt abandoned by you because you were a boy when you left, you had no control over what happened. Now, though, it’s a different story. You, like so many others before you, sucked us in, treated us as precious, important, as beloved. Then you threw us away – with no real explanation, no shame, no guilt. At least your family doesn’t know everything. You can explain your distance away as temporary insanity or something…WE aren’t that lucky. We have to live with your rejection of us…

I am pleased, for myself, that I had a few moments with you to find out what it really felt like to be loved (because i believed it then); but I am sorrier than I can say that I wasn’t more careful, like you, and protected everyone else around me from your unknown, unforeseen cruelty. You must really hate me a great deal, Michael, to perpetrate the devastation you have caused without a single glance back. Never would I have pegged you for that kind of man. At least, I never believed you would do that to me — if for no other reason than because we truly were always and always the best friends either could ever have. No one loved either of us as unconditionally and as deeply as we did each other. Or so I thought.

Well, enough of a random thought for now. Sorry it turned into several….

 

 

Could someone please…

remind me that everything REALLY DOES happen for a reason?  Even if it’s not one we understand?  I need someone to help me remember that…a lot.

“You’re pretty smart, aren’t you, Ella??  But it’s your fault.  You left him alone! You went to that meeting!  And there was a moon out tonight…and now he’s mine!  He’s mine!!”

Have you ever seen “Three Cheers for Miss Bishop”?  She’s a teacher and is going to marry Del.  She is so happy so in love.  Her sister, Amy, snatches him away from her one night – when there is a bright moon.  Ella just keeps teaching in her small midwestern town.

Then Amy returns home, pregnant, saying that Del ababndoned her because he never loved her, only loved Ella…Of course, Amy dies — the wicked always get their comeuppance, don’t they? — and Ella raises the child she has named Hope.  She just teaches and raises the daughter of the love of her life…Somehow it felt very familiar on many levels…Always waiting…And always waiting off to the side is Sam.  He has always loved her but watches as the years go by and Ella gets hurt again. 

A quote in the movie I like:  The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story but writes another…

Not sure why I felt the need to write about this movie, but…

The Devil’s Chair

as a young boy

his heart filled with fear

whenever he faced

the devil’s chair

now he embraces it

feels at home in its depths

feels it is his rightful place

as he is heir to

the devil’s chair

and all the power it possesses

 

crumpled around him

are the remnants of what he once was:

armor that has rusted

a sword that is bent 

a soul that was shining

a soul he has lent

to the devil, his brother

his partner in crime

the leader of the shadows

that have overtaken his mind

 

now black-shirted and booted

wearing black jeans, too,

his hair grown shaggy

his mustache a mess

he sits and he smokes

while others obsess

over the changes so quick

in his thoughts and his speech

he sits and he smokes

as he dissects a peach

 

he laughs and he grins

as he looks down at the game

that plays out below him

he feels no shame for the

lies he has told

to himself most of all

he giggles and smirks gaily  as they all

dance for him

the king of the shadows yells,

“let the games begin!”

 

                               he has become

                      the thing he most hated

                   joined the enemy he feared

                        given up on himself

                        and all he held dear

                    he smokes and he drinks

 he tumbles the dice

he sits and he thinks

of how nice

it is to be king…

 

 

The Final Irony

And here is the piece de resistance of irony:  I went to smoke a cigarette during work today.  I drove across the street to this fountain-y thing.  Anyway, i have been pretty blue and pretty angry for the past few days -as you may have noticed from my recent posts.  I was standing there, smoking, and realized I had been standing there, in that very same spot, talking to him when he told me he was going to come here to be with me. 

Geesh!  No escape. 

Was that the ironic part, Guy?  Doesn’t make much sense to us, you say.  Maybe the rest of it won’t either, but to some, it will…

But wait, there’s more!  I looked around a little and turned to go back to my car.  There, on the ground, at my very feet, right next to the sidewalk, was a dead robin.  It had been dead for some time.  It’s chest was ripped open and you could see the poor little bird’s insides, all on the outside.  I just stood there and stared.  Then I laughed, tears rolling out of my eyes.  I took a picture of the poor little dead thing with my cell phone and will put it in my photos later.  My work-brother, Brien told me I should use it as my avatar – ha ha – but we decided it was too gruesome. 

But really, how ironic is that??????                                                                   

One More Lie

 

I want to hate you.  But I don’t.

I want to be angry with you -

And I am.  But not for reasons you might think.

I’m angry because you ignored Allie.

I’m angry because you lied to yourself -

Whichever way the lie went.

I’m angry that you…lied to me.

Whichever way the lie went.

 

And yet… 

With all the lies that you told, what was one more?

That’s what you really owed me:

One more lie.

 

I am hurt beyond measure that you

Felt the need to destroy everything inside me -

Everything you had so carefully helped me to build -

In the name of honesty.

In the name of what you owed me.

With all the lies that you told, what was one more?

That’s what you really owed me:

One more lie.

 

One more lie so I could sleep at night.

One more lie so I wouldn’t cut myself.

One more lie so I wouldn’t cry all the time.

One more lie so I could feel blessed by our time together.

One more lie so I could always see you as I always saw you.

One more lie so I could see me the way you said you saw me.

One more lie so I could still pretend I was a Princess, a Lady.

 

One more lie would have made my life easier.

Happier.  More peaceful. 

Less suicide-dream-filled.

With all the lies that you told, what was one more?

Really.  What was one more?

That’s what you really owed me:

One more lie.

 

 

 

******* In Wuthering Heights, Heathcliffe slaps Cathy across the face with his “dirty hands” – the ones to which she keeps referring.  After he slaps her, he stares at his hands and says, “Hitting you is no use.  It’s just like hitting myself.”  That’s what yelling at you is like:  useless.

 

You are such a fucking liar…

you know.  you fooled me again.  that short story-ish thing, the one you end with “the pain of seeing you going on with your life”.  you know, that one?  you’re such a fucking liar.  you didn’t write it for me. you fucking jerk.  you wrote it for HER, the one you killed yourself over.   and you DID sleep with her, didn’t you??  my God, how could I be so stupid, so blind, so foolish??  how could i???  i am so…disgusted.  with you.  with myself for believing you.  all those years ago when your brother came to MY house and asked me why i was trying to ruin your family — when ONCE AGAIN, YOU called out to me — and i showed him your letter and told him to get out; that he was a fucking liar and so were you.  you were all a bunch of fucking liars and i wanted nothing more to do with any of you! 

huh!  all these years i thought i was just being a bitch.  but i was right.  you’re a pack of fucking liars.  oh, dammit.  i can’t believe i have spent my entire life loving a fucking stone cold, heartless liar.

1:00 am

whats there to say?

nothing’s okay

i simply can’t sleep

once again

my mind won’t slow down

it’s all jumbled now

all i can hear are your words

claiming you’re not my friend

the sheets sing

their sad lonely song

they miss the days

i’d take them along

to visit you

i’m crying outside

while dying inside

i just can’t seem to

get over you.