Band
I hate starting and stopping. When I'm in the process of writing something, unless I stay focused on it, I can'tcome back to it. I generally walk away from it for a while and try to come back, but find the point of the piece, or the general flow of the thing is gone. There's no point in trying to pick up again, but the seed of something is planted, and at least I get the practise of writing. That's never a bad thing.
Diane and I are trying again. I've been home everynight the last few days (since my last post) and we've been doing well, I think. We've been talking about moving too. I think the fresh start will be good for us. But I like fresh starts, blank sheets, new pages and so on.
I'm scattered today, but feeling inspired. It's probably just the end of the shift, and I'm drifting already to the weekend, or it could be the cloudy weather, the morning drives, being home.... Maybe I feel like drawing. I thought I was in the mood for writing, but it doesn't seem to be working for me. I'll try again in a little while.
Impending
I feel sick. Diane and I have been on hiatus for a little while now, and we haven't exactly seen eye to eye on what this break is supposed to be. Tonight we're getting together to decide (as far as I know) the future of us, her and I as a couple. I don't even want to think about what the conversation's going to be tonight. She called me on Friday to let me know that she wanted to set up this meeting to finally sort this out. She was stern, but I could tell there was a lot of emotion she was holding back. She's like that. Always holding back. I think that's part of the reason I'm scared to provoke her, or at least part of the reason I have been. But I've decided that if we are going to have any kind of life together from here on out, I'm not going to be afraid of her anymore.
Listen to me, like she has me cowering in a corner. It's not like that, exactly. It's hard to explain. All I've really wanted since we got together was to make her happy. I've said it and said it, and I believed for a long time, that if I could show her that she can be and do whatever she wants with me, if she could be happy, that would be all I need. It's been a long time, and I think I finally understand that I've been way wrong about everything. Maybe I've been deluding myself.
Fuck, I hate this. I start to see things for what they are, and I don't want to see it. I don't want to say it. I don't want what the reality is. I can't objectively judge reality though. I have friends that I want to share with her, but for so long it has only been the two of us. I have a dog that I want to be a part of our family, but she refuses to have anything to do with it. I have a life that I don't want because she's not in it, and at the same time, it's a life that I built, on my own, and I should be happy for it.
I think she thinks I've been secretly sabotaging this for a long time, and maybe I'm starting to believe her. She's smart, I've always known that, but sometimes her perspective is as skewed as mine. Her stubborness, her unrelenting conviction, her unwillingness to back down, regardless of whether she's right or not. It seems sometimes that she goes against me, that she shuts me down and refuses to budge, just to spite me. That whatever I think is a good idea at any given moment is automatically the opposite of whatever she thinks is right. It's frustrating sometimes, and sometimes she's right. She'd mentioned once that she wants me to stand up for what I believe in, but it's hard to do that when the person you love and trust more than anyone in the entire world is the one that you have to stand up to. At least, it's hard for me. I'm sliding backwards again, when I think this way. I'm not as weak as that, am I? Maybe I've always been weak.
I've been saying maybe alot.
I've changed alot over the years, I guess. I've been trying to look back to who I was to begin with, when her and I started, and how I'm different now. About the only true difference I see is my distance from her. We've hurt each other so badly. Otherwise, I'm still an explorer, a nomad, quick to laugh, and brood. I'm still moody. I'm still defensively open. Maybe not. Maybe I'm more confident now than I ever have been, but still.
I hate that I can't talk to you, Diane. I guess that's why my "fucking blog" is important to me. It's my voice. I can talk or not talk through my writing in a way that I can't outloud, because I'm clumsy and hurt and shy. Even with you. And maybe I'm using this as some sort of crutch. In any case, I'm scared. I nauseous about what this meeting is going to be. But this limbo may be worse.
