I have been inspired this past week to do spontaneous, subconscious writing every night. This was written on day 2.
by living in fantasy of WANTING someone who is NOT THERE FOR ME to BE THERE FOR ME , I live in a world where I am suspended in mid-air. waiting. waiting for a miracle. if he responds and takes care of what I want and need, then I am relieved and can temporarily drop down to earth and enjoy my great fortune. and if he does NOT respond to my request – I remain suspended and wanting and craving and angry and denying and pretending and out of sorts and in a state of extreme yearning.
this is unknown to me consciously. I will not dare admit that I am yearning. because yearning is for suckers. those who think that sick people are capable of giving more than they can give. and yearning means you are hopeful. and to be hopeful when in reality you KNOW that there is nothing to hope for.. because the person is SICK… it’s just stupid. illogical.
and I remain in the state of gelled idiocy, and hypocrisy. I remain in a state of death-like paralysis. I am not capable of moving forward. the initial reaction of wanting HIM to be there for me. And wanting HIM to be approachable. and wanting HIM to magically make it all go away (all the bad and horrible egg shell crunching) and wanting HIM to be the significant other in my life. and wanting HIM to be my partner. and wanting HIM to do the man-like things in the house. and wanting HIM to be less vulnerable and more of a man. and wanting HIM to be a human being and not a robot. and the extreme wanting of waiting and wishing and escaping the tremendous tremendous disappointment by distracting myself and forcing myself to forget. and the self-protection that I have in place which does not allow me to speak up for myself and entertain the thought that there are unmet needs in the wings… all this
all this is so big.
and it’s a cavernous gaping hole in my life today.
a shame-filled existence where I get stop-gapped by filling myself with side effects that have no bearing on the real problems that I stuff every day.
the true cause of my melancholy. will it be revealed to me?