Sunday, July 4, 2010

Auf Achse - That's how he keeps me.

Dear Globlets,

This might not be a globulation you wish to read because I might say things you don't want to hear (read) me say. Regardless of what you wish to read, what I'm about to write is something I feel like I need to write. I will not refrain from writing something just because someone else won't like it. That would go completely against everything I stand for. But, as a fair warning, you might want to skip this one, except something tells me that this warning just makes you even more curious...


It's as though he was a snake that one day cunningly crawled along my ankle and sunk his sharp, shiny fangs into my skin, unleashing a peculiar yet potent venom into my bloodstream. Naturally, it immediately attacked my heart, although I did not realize it at the time. The first time I felt the excruciating pain was by far the worst. Usually, a venom kicks in and you die. (Un?)Fortunately, this was not the case. Instead, the pain that the venom produces comes in waves and you can sometimes suppress it temporarily. The venom was activated when he had intercourse with another woman. Each time I've felt it since the first wave it has hurt less, but the pain has never disappeared. I was told that it might never, not unless I find that snake again.

Another analogy? Okay.

He has his hand around my neck. When I don't think about it, when I'm with other people, his hand doesn't touch me but it is still there, open and waiting. When he messages me a quick "hello," I feel his hand touch my neck. He touches it softly, like a caress, and it feels good because it doesn't happen very often, but he always has his thumb on my throat. My heart lifts to greet him: hope. My mind calls for it to come back down: reason. I don't know which to listen to. I don't want to listen to either one. When I hear one particular song, I feel his grip tighten; I don't listen to it any more. When I see his photographs and the happiness in them, I can feel his hand grabbing my throat. I don't look at the pictures.

It is strange though - not wanting to listen to my heart nor to my mind.

Now I'm nailed above you
Gushing from my side
It's with your sins that you have killed me
Thinking of your sins I die
Thinking how you'd let them touch you
How you'd never realize
That I'm ripped and hang forsaken
Knowing never will I rise
Again


Yesterday morning he texted me saying, "How are things up there?"; last night I cried myself to sleep. No man should have this kind of power over me, especially since he doesn't even know that he does. I think I prefer the limbo he keeps me in to anything else. When he speaks to me after going for so long without, I try not to let certain thoughts be thought but I do not always succeed.

I start remembering how we stayed up late talking so many nights, how he approached me during my first week of camp, how he made me feel when I was with him and how well we clicked. I get happy (he made me happy) and I feel hopeful that something magical will happen and the restrictions in our lives will change. Then I get sad because I realize nothing will change. I get even sadder when I remember how much he has hurt me and then more so when I think about how he doesn't even know the scope of the damage, or perhaps that there is any at all.

Sometimes I think about what it would be like if we got together. For about ten seconds it sounds like a nice idea. Although this part of me exists, I don't want it. I don't want it not only because he has been known to sleep around and I don't think I can trust him, but because I'm afraid that it won't work. I'm afraid that despite how I feel about him, we will end up not working well with each other. I think I'm happier not knowing. However, if one day the stars align and somehow I'm able to trust him, I'd consider it - hopefully not too quickly. The time and place has been so wrong for us this entire time. He lives in another country and now he's happy with another girl.

My mom explained to me the difference between "envious" and "jealous." I cannot be jealous of something I do not have; therefore, I am envious. I suppose the other girls at camp were too, that one year...
Are you ready for a history lesson? Just remember, don't try this at home... or anywhere.

August 2006, he came up to me in the Lodge as I was looking over the camp schedule. He asked me questions about myself and I smiled, replied, and told him I could barely hear him over the ruckus being made nearby. He suggested we go outside to talk. He told me he had a girlfriend and after finding out that I was single he said, "Maybe I shouldn't have told you about my girlfriend then." I laughed a nervous giggle. I remember thinking how strange but nice it is that this great person has come up to me and is talking to me. AND he's a boy. He told me he would have talked to me the day before, but wearing my green ARMY t-shirt, I looked a little intimidating. That evening I had on my black Rolling Stones t-shirt and brown cargo pants (that I miss terribly). He was my first real kiss (the one when I was 11 doesn't count - Bleh!). I was so embarrassed. As soon as we kissed I said I was sorry and that it wasn't good and that I don't know how to do it. Besides, he had a girlfriend! - I reminded him. "You're right," he said, but then he looked at me for several seconds in a peculiar way, pulled me close and kissed me. I resisted but gave in pretty quickly.

After this, the nights of this first week at camp fuse together. 3AM was the average time I went to bed that week; we talked nonstop. It was my favourite year of camp for more reasons than just him, but he certainly added a lot. I was only there for first session. He was staying for two. I left with good memories. He must not have had as memorable of a time as I did since he had sex with someone the week after I left - not his girlfriend either. (No, sex is not allowed at camp, but that hasn't stopped some people.) That was the first time he made me cry. It just hurt. He wasn't there the following year.

I suppose I forgave him because he came up to visit for a while. He was "taking a break" from his girlfriend at the time and, of course, we did stuff. Not all stuff. We both agreed that it was just for fun, that we would not and could not have something more than this fun. It was a lot of fun. He was the only one who ever really encouraged me to do the things I love. He ended up getting back together with his girlfriend when he got back home. I was only a little sad; I didn't let myself feel more for him. Both he and I were going from single to taken and back and forth for a little while, until he told me he cared about me more than anticipated. We talked a lot in this time. We decided to "hook up" at camp the coming year - my third.

It was evident that he practically had to beat girls away with a stick, the way he was being pursued. One night I was lying in my bed, in my bunk, in my designated cabin, trying to fall asleep when two girls came in. I recognized them; they probably didn't know I was there or that I was awake. I heard one tell the other about how "he" wasn't getting involved with anyone because he's already with "her" this week. This week. I also saw girls, including this one, practically climbing all over him. I can imagine him reclining in the field saying, "Ladies, please!" But he was with me. That week. It was also pretty evident that I was "with" him.

My first summer with him, he took my first kiss. My second, he took my virginity. On the last night. That's a scary thing to say.

I walked into this one with my eyes open. I think I was in denial with the idea that when he said, "Just you this week," he really meant only this week and could not be held accountable for what happens in any following weeks. Exactly what you think happened happened. He got together with a different girl. She was such a nice girl and I really liked her, so it was strange that she got together with him because I thought she might have seen him and me together the previous week. At the same time, it's understandable that he went for her. They didn't go all the way, I don't think, but I got to see pictures of them sleeping next to each other and snuggling. That felt great.

For months we didn't speak to each other. What he'd done made me sick. It made me sad. It made me feel like I meant nothing. It made me realize that I really must not have. It made me decide that I should never and will never be with him. It made me unable to trust him. It made me angry. It made me cry for months.

I can't remember when it happened - whether it was before or after we slept together - but at some point, and I think it was after, he said he loved me. All the barriers I had originally put up to protect my feelings, already weakened after being cheated on by someone who wasn't even mine, came crashing down when I heard those words. I realized I felt the same way without the barriers. I told him, but it didn't make a difference. He had the nerve to tell me once that if there was a good flight school up here he'd consider moving North. He wants/wanted to be a pilot. Oh, the stewardesses. There are gaps in the timeline, probably because I've tried so hard to forget it all.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind comes to mind, and as much as I want to forget everything about him, I don't want to forget anything just the same. This is what I meant by "limbo." I don't want to talk to him because I will remember the good times and want him all over again, even though I can't have him. I don't want to forget because I like the memories. I don't want to try and pursue a relationship with him because he's probably happy and I'm terrified that it won't work.

I'm listening to the song now. I feel like a living, breathing cliché. My heart hurts. It's like it's shaking in my ribcage, like the bass in the song is loud enough to make my insides vibrate. I don't want to see him, I don't want to touch him, I don't want to hear him, I don't want to hold him, I don't want to want him, I don't want to have him, I still want him... He won't let me.

I don't want anything. I want limbo. I don't want him. I still want him. I don't want him.

Why doesn't he just leave me alone?

You can tell me to get over him all you want, but be aware that I've been telling myself that for ages. I hope that even though I won't get any closure from him, perhaps writing this will give me some. I could keep this private, but there's something about posting it here that makes me feel better.

Here is the full song: "Auf Achse" by Franz Ferdinand.

You see her, you can't touch her
You hear her, you can't hold her
You want her, you can't have her
You want to, but she won't let you
You see her, you can't touch her
You hear her, you can't hold her
You want her, you can't have her
You want to, but she won't let you

She's not so special so look what you've done, boy
She's not so special so look what you've done, boy
She's not so special so look what you've done, boy
She's not so special so look what you've done

Now you wish she'd never come back here again
Oh, never come back here again

You see her, you can't touch her
You hear her, you can't hold her
You want her, you can't have her
You want to, but she won't let you

You see her, you can't touch her
You hear her, you can't hold her
You want her, you can't have her
You want to, but she won't let you

She's not so special so look what you've done, boy
She's not so special so look what you've done, boy
She's not so special so look what you've done, boy
She's not so special so look what you've done

Now I'm nailed above you
Gushing from my side
It's with your sins that you have killed me
Thinking of your sins I die
Thinking how you'd let them touch you
How you'd never realize
That I'm ripped and hang forsaken
Knowing never will I rise
Again

You still see her
Oh, you hear her
You want her
Oh, you want to
You see her
You still hear her
You want her
You still want to


And he'll never know...

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