My Contradictory Soul

(All of this was for Simon and a broken heart)

I think it was all a figment of my creative and lonesome imagination.

How do I explain my actions and decisions to others?

Somehow, by not elaborating, saying very little, using my ‘over-creativity’ a symptom, and by not divulging information (simply—skirting around the truth—yet somehow not ‘really’ lying), I was able to let it all blow over.

I hoped that I would not be found out—but inside—I knew the truth.

I reasoned that it was better no one knew the ‘real’ reason, so that I could save them from the pain.

I do not know which is worse: knowing and suffering from an irreparable broken heart, or not knowing and living with someone else’s lie.

I suppose the latter is by far the worst, but when one realizes what they have done ‘after-the-fact,’ saving face seems to be a better option.

What do they really think and say?

Do they believe what I have told them…

And have they accepted my excuses as clear fact?

I wonder.

Sometimes I feel like they want to question further.

Sometimes they look at me differently.

Sometimes I wish I could confess.

But my lies begot another lie, and another, and another…

So, I am left with sticking to my story.

I created a universe which belonged to only a specific few.

They were molded to fit my ideas, likes, turn-ons, maybes and could-bes.

I believed what I created.

It became real.

So real, that I felt as if I existed in both worlds.

Time was not a factor.

Distance was meshed with technology.

I wanted it to be.

In all the days, in all the hours, in all my thoughts, in all my words… it was.

It wasn’t easy to hide from them.

It was difficult.

Little bits of me began to fall-away.

The bits exposed a familiar yet incognizant and distant being in my place.

If only, I had known better.

If only, I didn’t let it.

They suspected.

They knew something.

They ALL did.

They conspired.

They inspected.

They compared.

They were close.

So close.

If only I had slipped up.

I almost had.

It was overflowing, and I couldn’t keep it all in.

Only one trusted person knew my secret.

What was I to do? I wanted to run-away. I wanted to scream to the heavens. I wanted to flee from it all and finally live in my created universe. I believed whole-heartedly that it would happen. I believed that my wild ideas and schemes would play out into a terrific and perfect reality. I wanted it so bad. But I had to wait. I had to wait for so many things. I had to plan. I had to figure out the next move. I had to detach myself—completely—from what I had always known.

Luckily, some part, some tiny piece, some tiny morsel, of my ‘real’ real self, never let go.

If it hadn’t been for the morsel…I would’ve found my rash and brainwashed self…on the other side. Then, it would’ve been too late.

I am glad. I am glad that the morsel saved me.

Today, like many other days, in solitude—I go there. I allow myself to wander the aisles of my creation. I allow myself to do so because if I deny it, then I would be lying to myself that the pain I caused ‘was really not that bad’, and would go on to say, ‘it is all over now…and I have moved on…’ when in reality I know I haven’t, totally.

It all seems a tad distant now…

But I have to live with my truth.

It hurts.

I wish I hadn’t done it.

I force myself to live in this place, to do the domestic thing, and to live a somewhat normal life… but in the dark, when all is quiet and another’s rhythmic breathing fills the silence… I feel the guilt setting in. This is something I must live with, for their sake. Call me selfish, call me what you want… this was the best I could do.

I know I am a very contradictory soul.

If I knew how to fix it, I would.

Goodnight.

6/2008