Wednesday, July 20, 2005

another night of postwork bedroom drinks

if my life were a story i cannot help imagine it would be a sad one. My mother is no more. My father never was. my brother is on a thread. & i hopelessly try to care for my younger sister & brothers in the hours we share. At times i strugle to feel i exist. I know that this is wrong. I exist. But recognition of my existance lags. I assume that it is for this reason that I am somewhat socialy inept. i never register my own impact in the social space (how could i when my existence is so tenuous) as luke or emma so aptly do. anyways, this story begins a new chapter.

my boy of 7 months is gone. it has been a long seven months. a beautiful 7. he was so dear to me & i have been avoiding morning for quite a while. I listen to music when i am alone so as to distract & yet i choose the sad songs to hear. Tonight at work (good old Ken's) i once again had to explain the tatters of my love life. Banal. Scripted by now. Not me thinking. Just saying. When i was with my boy i cried. It has been so long since i cried. So long since i sat in some closet, weaping at my own nonexistance. But now im back in survival mode. no tears, no time to weap. Just forget, ignore, aviod.

Freud's later theories talk of the constant return of the repressed. There is a delicate tension in the psyche. The repressed always returns. Displaced or condensed. Replaced with something else or reduced to something more manageable. (funily enough this mirror freuds return to his own earlier theories). But manageable is a very tenuous thing. Now what was manageable & what wasnt is becoming blured. Im in agony - but i feel no pain. It was the right thing to do. But since when did the right thing to do require so much pain?

I've obviously grown through time. I am no longer afraid of relationships. But i still think i ran from my boy. I could have loved him. I should of. But i held back. (Don't i always do this?) Chance played its card. My defence returns to repress. Maybe i need to believe in 'love' before i can experience it. I need to truly believe that it is meant for me, for at least once in my life. & a love of the reciporical sort. Maybe this is why i admire people who bare themselves so completely. They are my apparition. a mirage in a desert. & till then i'll walk about with my thirst.


lukely said...

ahh davey, your writing reveals you are stronger than u know. you care so much for people, its been such a pleasure being your friend this past year. i almost think you're scared to think of how much you care and how much you love. My favourite memories of you are of watching you dance, because you are so unafraid and so wholly in your body.

rapunzel.emma said...

Praise the Lord! Dave has dropped the abstraction - as beautiful as it is - and sounds clearer than ever before.

Pain makes you sharp, boy. Age and wisdom become you. Honesty makes you shine.

I love you. Don't be a stranger.

Sorry I didn't come out to the Sly. I realise it was a mistake. An over-sight.

"Survival mode" doesn't have to be about repressing the pain - it can be about owning it, breaking it down and making it into bite sized pieces. Taking your heartbreak out for a good time, letting it cry in public, air its dirty laundry, and, eventually, showing it that you don't need it any more.

Bitter little pills, baby. Bitter pills. Don't ever think that you cannot love. I know it's a cliche, but love believes in you. I believe in that, 'cos I've seen it.

Kinda like seeing a ghost I suppose.

Don't dispair. You are only 23!

puppet said...

awhh, shucks, you guys im blushing

Anonymous said...


Wills was always a complex spirit - he is a complexity of complications, emotions, distrations and contradictions - you are you and he is he and the world still turns - know that there are people who love you