Saturday, May 30, 2020


It seems to me that attachment is like addiction, and when that attachment, no matter how toxic, is broken the body goes through the pain of withdrawal.

And so it is. This is why we go back even when it serves no sane purpose. I'm not, going back that is. But my heart feels like a yo-yo, and it's tugging, tugging for me to let it free.

Summer is on its way, and so the days are longer. I can feel them, ironed out under the increasingly hot rays of the sun. One 24-hour period can feel like the world's longest taffy pull. Sticky and aching. Physical activity would do wonders if I weren't allergic to temperatures above 80 degrees. I think about substance abuse and I don't follow through. A literal punch in the gut might help. Maybe a tattoo. 

She got a haircut. I can't tell you how that hurts.

I am a loving, dedicated partner. I need stronger boundaries, true. But it doesn't take so much emotional maturity to keep yourself from crossing the line. I say as I consider trespass again at the Union Pacific switch yard. I'm frequenting that venue far too often. I'm not the only one keen to patterns. Arrest is the last thing I need. Apprehension and scolding from the linemen is bad enough. That's only happened once this year. 

You could get hurt, he said. We're working down the line.
Yeah, I think, you can only imagine hurt.

I mean, I don't want to be harmed. Not really. But I'm already hurting. The injustice. How can you love so well and have so little return? I'm not perfect, I know. But I was giving it my best. Sometimes, I supposed, that isn't enough. It's the emotional maturity thing again. Maybe I wasn't patient enough with where she was. Maybe it seemed clear that she wasn't sure whether she wanted to be in the relationship any longer. Maybe when she didn't mean to hurt me she did. Maybe it's best to let the boundaries re-congeal. When you're a sponge it's advisable to make sure you know what you're getting into.

I wonder how she's doing. I don't ask because I know the dopamine draw to wrap ourselves around each other and feel good for an hour or so before the nasty cycle starts again. But I want to ask. She hurt me repeatedly, and like a total sucker, I still care. What the hell is wrong with me?

I could get high. I'm scared that the stuff she gave me that I stashed in a remote location is laced, and taking a hit to find out for certain could be bad. Really bad. 

I'm down. I'm sad. I'm a miserable schmuck.

I'll protest injustice later this afternoon.

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