You know who you are, if you read the title and shuddered and thought `oh gods she’s talking about it again` then click the cross in the top right corner and go away until tommorrow. Gone?
Good. If you’re still here it’s your own fault, read away, disagree with me, take it personally although gods know I’m talking about myself! On MY journal. I welcome and invite all feedback as always! But have discovered a necessity in posting warning notes!
Love is, ultimately, something I distrust. I don’t believe it’s intentions are good, it intends to fuck with people, send them on a rollercoaster and then throw them into the pits of despair. Now I won’t argue with you when you tell me that it also throws you up into the sky and burns you with the sheer gold of the moment but I do believe that for the highs you gotta have the equivalent lows.
The android comment pops into my head here. I was told once, by someone I assumed knew better (and whoum I love dearly for memories and presents and futures and simply for being), that I had no feelings, that I spoke as if I were an android. And if I act on my feelings, if I say what I absolutely feel and if I give into the waves of sheer emotion that threaten to envelope me and carry me off to sea; then I am also accused of being inhuman but from the opposite angle as it were. Of course being human is all about balances so I balance precariously and try not to admit my involvements lest I drown.
So I ride this rollercoaster and wonder if anyone else is feeling this all the way I do, and the people who seem to be feeling the lows the way I do at my worst (which thankfully doesn’t happen so often) seem to be medicated and as for feeling the highs, there seems to be a great deal of stiff-upper-lipping. And where theres not…then there is the dreadful sight of merging, and of drowning and of dissappearence of the shining sparks of people.
Love makes me want to run. Love is the one thing that throws out ties and bindings and is inescapable, you can deflect and deflect and deflect but in the end running is the only viable option for avoiding it’s pittiest lows. Or at anyrate entering them on your own terms. I am deeply suspicious of a state of being that sneaks around and slides up on it’s victims catching them unawares.
When all is said and done though, and I think about the men I have fallen in love with and the friends and lovers I have loved I am coming to the conclusion that all the times I have said ‘ah now I’m over Blue Eyes’ I have been kidding myself. There are scars on my arms that are invisible to everyone except me, because I know where to look, though I usually try not to. Actually Thrip in Cambridge knows where to look too and a couple of the Rat Roomers would as well. There is other scarring as well, and I can see it if I hold it up to the light.
But it’s almost invisible even to me and the people who have surrounded me for the past five years have led me out of the addictions and the pain filters with such patience and good graces. I look at those I have loved and who have loved me and realise how far they have led me. I know the moments of everyone of the four men I have fallen in love with since Blue Eyes. Lets be honest, I know the moments of the one woman I fell in love with too. These are the scars that thread themselves invisibly over my heart, and they are old, and they are healing as much as those on my arms. These are the wreckages of a life, and I make no claims for them. Everyone has a wreck and the scarring to show from it.
Mishes are not brave, and they are much less brave than Jasons. The Yellow Dart is a man I love dearly, he is brave because he dares to hope, he is brave because he dares to stay on the Light side whereas I have sunk Darkside so long ago. This rollercoaster that I dare not ride has crippled me in some ways.
My next actions are dedicated to The Yellow Dart and one day I shall tell him what they were.
These scars are old enough and I can endure the rollercoasters lows for real this time around. The stories, the passion, the rope held out, the perfect moment and now the blue-green, there are highs that are worth the lows.
This Mish is dedicated to:
my sister, Kerry Ainscoe, Roz, Helen West, Ken, Kath, Trev, LU Swimming Team, Lizzy, Laundry Friend, Harry Potter, Lighting Richard, Heather, Kimblebobs, The Pre-Raphaelite Maiden, The Fit Barmaid, Token Straight Man, Oliver, Daemonic Ian, American Beardy, Gecko, Vega, Lucy Pants, Kerrttu, UniQ, Cow Andy, Pertuu, Owl, Beardy Best Mate, Man of Taste, Claire Death, Matt, PULSAR, Torch, Cuddles, The Naiad, Byron, Pagan Soc., Bilbo, Muppet Boy, Maggot, My Warder, Writers Guild, The League Of Extraordinary Lesbians, Archangel, Cornish Bloke, DJ, Sian-Princess, The Yellow Dart, Giggles, FFG, The Jellicle Cat, Princess Lex, FoxyJonno, LURPS, President Laura, Earrings, Christian Liz, Radio Steve, Thrip, Fletch, Sweetie, the Alcoholic, Purklestelli, Mark, Mrs. C, My Favourite Uncle, the Confused Highwayman, Tor, The Nymph, Wrong Mike, Sandra, Wonderwoman, Dancer, Spanish Silver, Skimble
With special mention to: