Ashes

You’re not very communicative, are you. I’ve been trying to get this conversation started for quite some time now, and all you do is stare at me. A few burblings every now and then maybe, that let me know you’re there. That’s hardly a fair return on my effort. Why must I always involve myself with emotionally unavailable people? I'm like an abused wife. Ah well. It must be my fault.

I've been up all night. Looks like I won't be getting to sleep. There's plenty to do, though. So don't worry about me. I was a bit under the weather earlier this week. Just wore myself down too much, and had about 6 hours of cleansing. Left me pretty low-energy, and I took a couple days off from my little hobby. Got me to thinking that it's not really all that healthy, to be driving myself so hard. For two years now. We've talked about this before. At least I talked. You just sat there staring at me. I wouldn't do that to you. I'd respond. It's sort of creepy, your being like that.

Someone mentioned the worst pornography he'd ever seen. I won't elaborate. I haven't seen anything like it, but I don't look at pornography. Hardly at all. I'm sort of vanilla that way. I've heard of much worse than what he mentioned. Even between adult humans. But how did we get talking about this? I'm mean how did I get started. Oh yeah. I overheard some fellow saying that only really hardcore porn would do it for him anymore. We've talked about this too. Pornography. I suppose the fellow was going for effect. A bit young to be quite so jaded. And he does enjoy making extreme statements. Do it for him. I've never understood that. I don't need anything to do it for me. Hm. That didn't come out right.

Did I ever tell you? I was sexually active at a very young age. Younger than you'd believe. It couldn't have been healthy. I mean, look how I turned out. Alone and uptight. Do not arouse my love before its time. I guess I'm jaded too. But I'm old enough to be. Yeah, there's a lesson to be learned. Isn't there always? Live by the numbers. Do it right, because doing it wrong has many costs and few benefits. None that last.

So anyways, I'll be doing my little sport again this morning. Yesterday I spent a good while rolling with a fellow who's good enough to get me but he never does. He doesn't press his advantage. How like life. How like me. Maybe that's why I like him. Everything is a metaphor for everything else. Rolling is a metaphor for my life. Lot's of effort expended to win nothing. Physical proximity without actual closeness. It's the only thing I do that makes me wish I was young. By which I mean I wish I was different. Not so constricted. It becomes increasingly problematic. It used to be a good way to be. Safety in solitude. Surrounded by my young family. Now I busy myself with useless analysis and opinionating on matters over which I have no control. Opinions make us feel that we are not helpless. We have to care about something.

I don't see how I can continue like this. I don't see how it can change. It's getting hard to respect myself. I've always had that, until now. What was my crime? You'll never know.

This is one of those things that should stay in the crypt. The thought of your slack-jawed incomprehension is hateful to me. Why do I even care about you?

Well. Thanks for being such a good listener. Don't bother to burble back. It would spoil the intimacy.


J