There are many scary realizations or interpretations that you come to when you embrace some darkness. I just had one. It crept up like a haunt and poisoned any smile I had left in the day. Like a rapid river, it broke down the walls of my mood and protruded into territory not common to be wet.
I sat here, waiting for my laundry to dry before heading out to M’s house for the night. I found myself looking through her photo albums. Not in a desire to creep, more in an “I miss her face” kind of way. Subtle Wyatt, real subtle. As I was going through some old stuff, I see a girl smiling. Ear to ear. It bleeds off my phone and into my head. Australia, concerts, parties, friends, old boyfriends, and each with that same beautiful smile. Photo after photo, setting after setting, it’s the same outcome. Maradona is happy.
Some of you are saying…. “well? what’s the problem? you neurotic psychopath?”. And you’d be right about the label. The fiend that creeped ever so solidly into my train of thought… or at least onto the tracks, derailing the train and harming all those aboard… was this. What if she was happier then? Than she is now. What if her yesterday, was better than today? Worse yet. What if her yesterday was better than her tomorrow? Would I be taking credit for slaying such a gorgeous and radiant happy soul? Better yet, why is my mind convincing me that any of this twisted tale is remotely even possible.
As a man, as HER man more importantly, I know that there are quite a lot of things one must accomplish in order to be a decent partner. I would take a bullet, soak up her pain (like a shamwow of nightmares), and give up a rather large list of things in order to make/keep her happy. All of which I know she mirrors. Ok. Maybe not the shamwow thing.
It’s tricky. Building something with another person. Planning schedules, lives, futures, dates, even the monotonous. It’s always something that happens. It’s a must. You work together to get the most out of everything, in turn, the future looks brighter. Building a comforting place for the two of you is normally the more opaque vision. With M, I have nary a worry. She likes all the same things I do. The only hitch is me. And it takes me all the way back around to that horrid snake that crawled inside my intentions. That fear.
Before we met, her life was filled with story-worthy events. Out on the town, some drinking, and lots of fun. Of which I am none. My life doesn’t consist of any of those things. And I fear that she will resent me for it. Again. I’m not claiming it is of a sane world to think of such things, but that shall not let my head rest. Worst part of it all is she’d probably be too caring to even bring up how boring my life is. Until it’s too late.
My mind is so tired lately. School, and writing take up most of my functional reasoning. So I’m left with this diseased malnourished soggy mess of flesh. One with a vendetta against my smile. The smallest piece of poor news sends me into a rabbit hole of the darkest brand. Yes, Depp/Burton dark. Just weird, non-relative garbage that is trying to spoil the soil in the garden I’ve only just realized I had cultivated.
So while I see to a growing relationship, and a future with a woman who is everything a guy like me could not only want, but imagine… I fight the good fight. Or the shitty fight. I haven’t decided whether the insanity makes me “special” or “spppeeeecial”. I’ll get back to you on that one.