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.

Thursday, November 27, 2008

I'll Just Get Thicker Tires (11/27/08 Thanksday)

This confusion, it's simply my inability to play by Julie's rules. No force of will can counter my natural inclinations, no brilliant rationale can make sense enough of how I feel and am in order to force acquiescence to anything. Am I lacking compassion? Do I not care enough for Julie's sensibilities to leave her alone about all this? Of course I care, or I would not be trying so hard to leave her be. But how delicate do I think she is? She knows how I feel. How hard would it be on her to be told how hard it continues to be to work with her? That's what I want to do, bare my heart, but why? The letter already warned her of the difficulty, and there's really nothing I can expect of her. The smart thing is to let it lie, but is it a sleeping dog or a wounded bird? The wintering larva of a malicious bug lying in wait for a warmth, as of a passion, to awaken it to commence it's thoughtless path of destruction?

Round and round I go with this, spiralling deeper and deeper into the cataract. Is it bottomless? because between the neurosis and the arrested emotional development, I can make this last forever. It's all a joke, I know. I've known it for ever. If someone just said, "Dion, you're making a fool of yourself. There's nothing there. Julie's never going to want you," I might just give it up, though I think the person to tell me that would have to be Julie to convince me to move on. If I were to speculate, I'd say she was afraid to tell me herself--another little something she'd "hate to have to say". But I couldn't take hearing it from her. I prefer the truth, but I don't really want to hear that one--at least not from her. Sure, I want a sign--a clear sign--but not that one.

I wish this were all a product of my imagination--Julie, the crush, all the people mentioned and involved. At least then I could conconct a satisfactory ending, not necessarily the happy ending I'd like it to have in reality, but the right ending. What would that be? Hinckley, regarding the situation, has often started, "Now if this were a Hollywood movie," but has never unironically completed the statement. I can't imagine an ending because I can't get inside Julie's head or heart--rather, I can't get into my own heart for long enough to understand what it takes to understand someone else. Compassion is an understanding of one's heart for another's. If I could get past what I wanted and hoped for, I could possibly understand what Julie really wants. Or, maybe it's not-knowing what I really want and hope for that prevents me from understanding. I'm not sure I can get very far down Logic Road with that statement before I hit a truth that bounces me into the ditch. And if I swerve from that one, another one will bite my tire. Denial is an artful dodger, but the stress of the artifice eventually leaves it vulnerable to sharp truth.

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