now what?

Four

it's time . . .i have been so lost, been so confused about what awaits me; hurting from the wounds of all my failures; and hurting from the most glaring rejection: hers.

it's time to head off into solitude and collect the shards of whatever remains of my heart and attempt to put it back together. i may find not much of it is left, but i have to see; and that is why i must go off into the wilderness.

i need to get separation from things which remind me of her and of my failures. i will be gone a while, who knows how long?

i need to find out what is lurking deep down in my soul; what am i made of?

so long, for now _ but not forever.

Now What?

three

You know it hit me the other day as i was watching a football game and a Pepsi commercial came on _ it’s always odd things out of television commercials or asides in a sitcom that get my attention _ that she never has said even as little as: “let’s just be friends.” As infuriating as those four words are to a guy (or a girl) who is totally crushed out on somebody, it still serves some strange _ and perhaps twisted _ purpose. Those four words, trite and silly and annoying and false as they are give a person something to hold onto until you are ready to really cut the cord yourself. And that’s what we all want to be able to do: cut the cord ourselves rather than have somebody else cut it against our will.

i’d have to say that even though i know those four words would be false and vapid, such that i couldn’t hold onto them anyway, i would give anything right now to hear her say them.

i am so lost.

Now What?

Two

i don’t claim to have all that much clarity of insight these days, what with all the emotional turmoil i am experiencing, but i think maybe the problem is this: i need some distance yet i cannot get any.

i cannot get any distance because, i think, Katy still has my heart. When she broke up with me, as in all breakups, she was supposed to give it back _ and she probably thinks she did. And to be fair, maybe she actually did give it back, at least on her part _ to the extent she was able…and i don’t think she intended to keep it.

But i think she still has it. i gave it away too quickly, or _ perhaps _ i gave it away appropriately and she just wasn’t interested. Or, maybe…i don’t know. Like i said, i don’t have much clarity of insight these days.

Now What ?

One

i got back into town late last night, reluctantly returning to school the night before classes started today; i really don’t feel like being here. At least it’s the last year at State, i really don’t think i ever believed i would get out of here in four _ all my friends seem to be stretching out their college experiences. Somehow i am actually going to make it. But then what? i really can’t say.

This year starts amidst so much strangeness, it’s almost too much to try and explain it all. But if i don’t nothing else will really make sense; there is a definite backdrop upon which this school year will be painted, i feel it already.

When Katy broke up with me last spring it was devastating. i understood her reasons, and some of them were even good ones _ truth be told _ but it still sucked. i spent the end of last semester wallowing, hoping the summer would help me forget and move on _ whatever “moving on” means; how it’s different from denial i don’t know. And a good dose of denial would actually suit me fine right now if i could just get her out of my head.

Anyway, the summer was sheer torture, and in some ways i only have myself to blame. With all of our common friends, i knew i would see Katy some during the summer, but i wound up seeing her way too much. i would be having a decent week not thinking about her, then i would be at Rachel’s house and Katy would show up. To drive the nails in a little further, she oftened talked about the new guy she was seeing _ Todd, or Tim or something. It was infuriating.

Just a couple weeks ago Katy and i had a long talk, late into the night as we sat at the kitchen table at her mom’s house. i’m not really sure why we were talking, nor what it started out as, but we wound up talking about our relationship and the break up. She was doing that thing, that sweet and inviting thing while she simultaneously told me i still had no chance with her. i just sat there, strangely drawn to her and the pain. Somehow i couldn’t pull away and just leave, which i should have done.

Even as i write this i feel angry and frustrated and also so defeated i could just die. i don’t understand what’s going on. The only thing i can say is it’s good that she graduated last spring so i can be here at school without running into her. Maybe i can get some distance, and get a life.

Gifts

I have a son. I'm not used to saying it, so I'll keep practicing. I have a son. He is ten days old. My week has been filled with millions of seconds of elation. Each one of them I wish I could hold onto, but I can't. People keep telling me "they grow up so fast", parents of six-month-olds get a far away look in their eyes and say "I remember when I had one this small." It seems that in most of my happiest times I've often felt the little sadnesses that come from watching the clock. As if I'm trying to beat the rush on post-holiday depression, or post-accomplishment letdown. Its as if the realization of the fleeting nature of a moment somehow diminishes its potency or worth in celebrating. Part of me would argue that its not true, but that little feeling is always there. Life is a series of tiny moments, some of them fantastic, but all of them flying by in rapid succession. You can no more hold onto them than you can grasp the wind. I wish I could take one of them, pin it down like a butterfly, save it somehow. Keep a smell, a touch, a moment of holding my little seven pound boy and preserve it for a far off moment int he future. As it stands, though, the moments continue to slip through my fingers, and I know no solution. I've heard that some men drink to forget. If I was to ever drink, I mean really, seriously drink, I would drink to remember.

I pull my mind away from the sorrow of the future, and engage it fully in the joy of the now. This moment is a gift, and the next one. There will be other gifts, other joys, but like gifts, we do not control when or where, or why they are given. We only recieve.

Update

it was brought to my attention that in a previous post there was a faulty link to funkstille, which has now been remedied.

the post dealt with ruminations on the life of the late Pope John Paul II.

Elusive

The Poet, the Artist,
The Yearning Heart speaks _ or makes a feeble attempt.

Fragments and phrases;
Blurred word pictures;
Elusive insights and such fragile dreams just out of reach.

Percolating, anticipating,
No end to the waiting.

Beauty and confusion mingle;
Questions linger;
Grasping vapors while the Poet spills his ink.