Sticks and Bones

The first part of a chronicle of a crush-turned-obsession. I'm sorry, Julie.


To experience this in natural reading order go to A Bright, Ironic Hell: The Straight Read .


Also, try Satellite Dance and Crystal Delusions--Parts 2 and 3, respectively--complete.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Zoo or Lab? (10/13/08 Monday)

I'm not the least bit equipped to deal with this, yet I can't let go--or it won't let go of me. Distraction is impossible, even at home. Is it, indeed, gripping me, caging me? I'm trapped. I can't get to my life, I can't get away from Julie in any way. If not for Julie I wouldn't be writing again, though suddenly I wonder if that's a good thing. Is this a passion or an obsession? Is there a difference? A practical difference? I see no way out but to bring it out in the open. Not to spite Julie, but to stop hiding, stop pretending I'm able to deal with this on my own. The advice of the people I've trusted with the problem would be stacked against that strategy, but when did I ever really listen, except when Hinckley told me to "go for it"? I've certainly been desperate along this trail, but I've never felt more so than now. But desperate for what? I don't want to force Julie into any action against me. I don't want to put any more stress on her than I already have, but I just can't pussyfoot around the way I feel, and I can't turn it off. I try to find things about her to build up a debit against her, but if they're there I can't see them.

I am caged. I have no room to discuss this with Julie, who is the only person with whom this needs discussing, and that enrages me! "Great guy"! "Great guy"! What's so fucking great?! How can that change anything? It doesn't break that clot of stress that builds up in my right shoulder at the thought of her or the sound of her voice. It doesn't let me sleep all night. It doesn't do anything but listen to me shriek and watch me roll violently around the cage walls tearing my hair out and shredding white knuckles on the bars.

I tried not to write after Saturday, but my mind began to eat itself. I've had no one to talk to anywhere. Stacey seems tired of hearing me talk about it, Mike doesn't mention it, and I've barely had a word with Hinckley in over a week. I've become tiresome. Nobody will tell me to give Julie up, but they can't indulge me any longer, either. Dammit, won't someone be honest with me?

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