Cav's Place

Four and a half years since she left and things are only getting worse. But the amount of time is just an excuse, both to write this now and not to write it earlier… I’ll have to keep this pretty short because I have certain rules about how a post should look on this blog and I’m really not up to writing things properly or even making much sense in any way.

Been too close to too big of a breakdown to be able to do much of anything for the past several days. I’m just sitting here and trying to keep my mind on something all day long, because I can’t have that breakdown. I couldn’t even tell about some of the causes to anyone I know. I don’t feel nearly close enough to anyone for that; haven’t since she left. And nobody’d understand most things anyway. All right, likely she didn’t understand either and perhaps I wasn’t close enough even to her, not for this, but of course things couldn’t possibly get anywhere near as bad with her around, so this wouldn’t exactly be an issue…
On top of the main problem and the fact that nobody understands me and I can’t get close to anyone, I find myself needing to replace some things that she bought back then because they can no longer be held together and this just tears me apart… And there are some other things, but I just can’t talk about those even here. It’d take someone who’d know what I’m talking about, who’d wish for what I wish for, whose eyes would get moist at the same time mine do… But it’s just impossible to find anyone like that. Even the very few who ever seemed to care, at least somewhat, admit that they don’t understand or are convinced that things that are very obviously completely wrong would be right for me or just feed me platitudes that do more harm than good because they just prove how alone I am once more…

Look, there’s no point in writing this. I can’t say what’s on my mind anyway. Though it may appear that I said enough already, I didn’t. I’m sitting here, arguing with myself and getting nowhere. The most I could achieve would just be a scream in space… At least if it’d be in water there’d be bubbles… So I’ll keep sitting here and basically not doing anything, not even really worrying about the issues I care about anymore, because I just can’t do anything anymore. So I’ll just see for how long I’ll be able to keep my mind stuck on meaningless things…

I need her, all right? There is no right person for anyone, or at least not for me, but there is the person you love, as wrong as they may be for you… And I found two of those, but the first one never even considered giving me a chance and the second decided that I’m not good enough after a while. And if the fact that we never were together allowed me to bury what I felt for Rose, the fact that I was with Andra means that’s it. There’s nothing higher or more powerful than being in a relationship with the one you love, and my promises are forever.
I just need to hold her again, all right? And look into her eyes while talking to her, even if sometimes she wouldn’t understand any more than anyone else. And to hold hands with her again while going out instead of just forcing myself to walk out there alone once per week because I got this idea that I have to. (By the way, this week I just went out of the building, unshaven and wearing the clothes I wear around the house, and then turned around and came right back in. Couldn’t do more.) And kiss and caress and cuddle and put up with her occasionally annoying demands. And give her orgasms, have sex and make love. (Yes, those two are different things.) And be there, useless as I am, when she’s sad or happy or scared or excited or thoughtful or angry. And go to bed and wake up knowing that she’s next to me, or at least that she will be. And caress her hair and whisper that I love her every night after she falls asleep. And be unhappy with her instead of depressed without her if those are the only two options.

But right now… Right now I need someone who’d understand. Someone I wouldn’t need to tell anything to, but who wouldn’t mind the fact that I’ll say the same thing a thousand times over. Someone I could understand just as well as she’d understand me. Someone I could be there for just as much as she’d be there for me. Someone who could come over, or someone I could go to, and talk and cuddle and at least be alone together with. I need… I need someone I could cry with, all right? I almost cried a few days ago, alone, fully under the blanket and holding the teddy bear she gave me. Had all of two tears run out of the corner of each eye… Which is quite an achievement without anyone being next to me, but doesn’t exactly count for anything…

But none of that is ever going to happen, is it? There is nobody out there who’d be right for me, nobody out there who’d at least understand me, nobody out there who I could at least really put up with… And the one I love, the one with whom none of these would matter anymore, doesn’t even want to know that I exist… So here I am, undead for no reason. Alive only because I was too much of a coward to take care of that problem when death still had a purpose…
I saw a quote recently: “When I’m lying in my bed I think about life and I think about death and neither one particularly appeals to me.” That’s how it’s been for most of my life… I can’t remember thinking much of anything until I was four, so I won’t count those years. Then there were the two years of living with Andra, when life was certainly desirable. There was also the one year we were together before moving in with her, when life was mostly desirable, with certain notable exceptions. Then there was about one year after she left when death was certainly desirable. And about another year at an earlier point, after I truly realized that I wasn’t going to have any chance with Rose, when death was generally quite desirable. That leaves about 16 years of being undead and not finding much of anything that’d give any noticeable appeal to either option…
How many more years will be added to those 16?

So much for keeping it short or making sense…