DurAnorak (duranorak) wrote,

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Well, everything is mixed for me at the moment, nothing's all bad or all good, so I'm not terribly surprised at how things last night went. ~sigh~
The good was a very intangible good (stop laughing at the back there, I'm trying to be serious) - to do with talking and understanding and knowing and wanting. The bad was very much a solid bad that hit me round the head and kicked me in the chest. I'm starting to despise self-control; for a long time I've been feeling vaguely as though it's not all it's cracked up to be. Now I see it as a weakness. Go figure.

There are many reasons why I hate women in general, but very few particular women I hate. Last night, this exchange :
Me : "She's lucky she's not here."
Him : "Why, would you kill her?"
Me : "Yes."
Did you believe me? You know very well that I could kill. You think I'd spare her, out of guilt or something similar? Perhaps I would. There are many ways to 'spare' someone from death though.

I walked back in impossible amounts of pain - purely physical for once; I've twisted one ankle and I've ripped half the heel off one foot, so walking in tight boots that scraped at every step hurt as much as you'd expect it to. I got here, though. And the physical pain suffocated the emotional, at least.

The emotional pain is an odd one; I've felt it before. It's the pain of being relatively happily married and suddenly at a gallery-opening party running into your first love and finding out that all the magic is still there, only you can't do anything about it, and so you talk about wanting to kiss each other, with a tray of canapes between you acting as a barrier.

True to the half good/half bad thing, I got back here and picked up a sweet e-mail; the good. The bad? It's part of a checklist and I'm just another line to be crossed through; that's that charity case dealt with, then.

Things are strange. No surprises there. They hurt. No surprises there.

Despite my frequent moping, I do actually know what it's like to feel loved. Knowing what it's like to feel wanted, though, is something completely different and only one person has ever really made that happen; it's a wonderful feeling and I'd kill to get it back in a form more believable than last night's, where it darted around me in slivers like a school of tiny fish trying to unnerve a predator.

So much tension I thought something had to break, but nothing did.

I want to shatter you and use pieces of you to cut myself.


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