there was a boy I once loved, whom with I was so enamored I thought I would die
he was a few years older than me, already getting into college when I was still in high school
--kinda fucked up in retrospect, but I digress--
he was gorgeous, and, like me, was bisexual and tangled in torments both inward and outward, but unlike me (at the time), was a total libertine. his freedom compared to mine drew me to him like a moth to a streetlamp
he was also a narcissistic drunkard, an avatar of self-destruction.
I still see him in other people to whom I'm attracted, sometimes overwhelmingly so
most often in the form of a kind of physical resilience; a self-aware but oddly self-spiteful cockiness; a sardonic, ego-driven attitude; a sense of humor so dark, Anish Kapoor is sitting somewhere fuming over the fact he doesn't have an exclusive license to paint with it
and I also still see the mistake I made, and I don't know how to stop seeing it
I mentioned being tangled in torments of my own
I was trapped at the bottom of a well, with stones piled on top of me: my own religious zealotry, influenced by homophobic parents, peers that could not and would not understand me, and a dearth of friends, close or otherwise
as much as I was in love, my fear of myself won out.
I told him I was 'fixed' -- that I'd become straight, that I'd met someone else, and that I didn't want him to ever contact me again
and then I became a ghost
after this, very soon after in fact, I went on to get married to the aforementioned 'someone else' just months into knowing them
I won't go into that right now.
I will say that in the intervening years, up until the past 5 or so, we had still been in sporadic contact. ghosting only works if you don't keep going back, you see
we drifted apart in our interests, our goals, and through it all it seems as if I had grown up while he hadn't
and part of me died when I realized it all
sometimes I still want to reach out to him again
but nothing could ever come of it, even if he's thinking the same thing -- which I would have considered extremely likely, before; we often had 'psychic telephone' moments over the years -- because we are both very, very different people now
and so that pain still sits there in my heart, a dull ache like an old wound in bad weather, out of reach and disjointed from time
it's the baggage I don't know how to put down that defines me, it seems.
@synthi gosh it's like, far beyond time to put the jeff-related baggage the fuck down my good bitch you're basically making the rest of us help carry it too by proxy >:T
@skolli maybe if I hadn't been relegated to being a laundry bin for all the emotions and events and trauma we collectively refused to process at the time, it wouldn't be like this
hell, we wouldn't even be 'us' in the multiple sense
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