Archive for February 14th, 2008

Love and Cyanide

Thursday, 14 February 2008

Gedoku is a Japanese word meaning ‘detoxification’. Depending on the length of illness and health of the patient, the reaction can be severe. Paradoxically, the healthier the patient, the more intense the purge.

This morning at work I was finally able to finish an emotional gedoku, stabilizing after weeks of
horrible pain (70% mental, 30% physical) over losing a woman who, laughably, I never really had (that
every man suffers over a woman just makes me angrier for its lack of originality).

It got bad enough I considered suicideI always do anywaybut only as a necessary and logical impulse, not a goading to action. I was truly disgusted imagining how many people, upon hearing I’d (finally) killed myself wouldn’t be surprised at all. People notice when you’re fucked up, and the past few weeks they sure noticed I was far worse than usual.

How did I stabilize? From past meditation practice, stubbornness and fear, there was just enough left of my tiny sugar-cube soul to hold on.

I concluded I didn’t really love _____. For over a year she’d become a surrogate for all the women I should have been out meeting.

And why not?

She had almost every quality I love in a woman, and being the only hot one around regularly, I became
dependent on her. You’d think the task would be made easier since she was/is unhappily married (and
probably already has a stunt cock somewhere, a logical conclusion which makes my guts twist even as I write).

With _____ it wasn’t lust, not even in the beginning. Yeah, she has a great body for an older woman and not a few physical flaws for “balance” but I see hot ass everywhere all the time, in Florida it’s common. What got to me about _____ over 8 months (her visiting the workplace 2 times a week) was…her soul. Even I’m surprised to mention a word ground to meaningless dust, but with _____ it was, her beautiful soul. Real fire, and humor, real humor rarer in a woman than my 98-degree penis.

Like so many people _____ claimed to have been mortally hurt and would never fall in love again, which saddened me. (Did she give up before she met the husband)? Over decades I’ve heard almost everyone swear off emotions. Though they mean it, it’s total horse shit. Outside of an asylum you’ll never meet anyone who is happier living with their feelings shut down. They may not take their tea in the form of another person, and there are certainly enough escape valves and distractions in modern society that no one has to feel much of anything, but the storm of emotions will ALWAYS out somehow.

I broke my own little pledge by sending one last email to _____ tonight, the “visual poem” at the end of this post. Beyond a cursory reply I don’t expect to ever hear from her again (and hopefully never see her again, it’s too painful).

Of course, I’m a hypocrite. If _____ emailed back something meaningful or called me or I could make her want to be near me as much as I do her, I wouldn’t hesitate despite guaranteed disastrous results. Yet I’m “cured” all the same, because the grain of sugar-soul realizes if I was/am miserable without her but would be totally ecstatic with her, then she controls my happiness by default. Even if she loved me, that level of control cannot be permitted by anyone.

If _____ ever found out the true depth of my feelings, which frighten even me, she would probably be horrified, possibly embarrassed for me and certainly for herself, depending on whom she thought knew. What can I say, I hate being smart.

What saddens me the most is never being given making the opportunity to tell her the important things that might add beauty and meaning to her life, how much she means to me beyond male selfishness.

It’s just not done.

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