Sunday, June 3, 2007

just give me what I need, give me a reason to believe

And when the change came, it was total, it was paradigm, it was a shift in thinking and affected me down to the atomic level. One agreement ringing the changes in a life...and it was only after that the brain kicked in again.

So, I understand part of it is the still-nonfunctional Key, flinging me in and out of limbo on a moment's passing whim. I understand part of it is commercial, part of my job which I still do, from time to time, that takes me far from the arms of love. But part of it--and the largest part--is simply staying awake too long, forcing myself--and those I love--to wakefulness.

Yes, there seems to be little other time, but...that can't be a sufficient reason, not if it results in the beloved dropping to the floor in exhaustion, or worse, my pulling the same trick, waking up later to a cold and empty bed, and sighing.

So now I have to stand up and make demands I'm not prepared to make. I need to say when, and I need to say stop, and neither is going to be easy to say. I need to set limits, and...I am painfully ill-equipped, because the largest desire in this is mine, and I can't sacrifice the rest of my time for sleepy, addled, exhausted time with him. As much as I want to.

"But I'm good at being uncomfortable, so
I can't stop changing all the time..."


There never seems to be enough time anyway, and I think a large part of that is sleep deprivation, occurring at long last. I want to be able to build things, I want to be able to organize what I carry at long last, I want to try the prim trick and see if it works better for me (the prim trick: inadvertently the reason I have the best-armed floor rug in Rivula, because I accidentally dragged the folder of weapons into the rug prim, and thus. So it may be the easiest way to organize my inventory--those dozens of items I don't necessarily wish to delete, but don't want to see every day--how about finding or making a convenenient prim, and loading it with furniture, foods, clothing items, notecards, whatever--the things I need, but don't need now). I want the time to socialize and dance and build and organize in addition to my other demands.

And I think the only way to do that, do all of what I want, is to rise earlier in the morning, and sleep earlier at night.

I don't discount the touch of his skin is addictive, his words in my ears nearly the sweetest I remember, his kisses dizzying, intoxicating, driving me to excesses I'm only now beginning to regret. I don't, at my heart, want to enforce these changes.

But if I'm to survive, if we are, if my larger relationships are to be given any more time with me at all...I need to enforce the change.

"I seem to you to seek a new disaster every day
You deem me due to clean my view and be at peace and lay
I mean to prove I mean to move in my own way, and say,
I've been getting along for long before you came into the play..."


But it won't be easy, and I'm not even talking about his protestations, should there be any. I'm referring to mine. I'm referring to my unwillingness to stop staying up.

And it's no accident my fingers unfolded a note first written in January, about my neko lad's considering of leaving, and we are yet these few more months down the path, and what he said would make him leave...still hasn't changed. And at some point, at some point soon, we must address that. For all I don't wish to do that, either.

Days like this...it's not the trapped-in-limbo that bothers me, anymore. It's the amount of thinking it makes me do, thinking I want to avoid like deadly plague, because it's going to push me in directions I don't wish to go.

But....I have to. This change, I have to make. Whether I wish it or not, whether he wishes it or not, whether we both agree
"we'll be fine", and "we'll be better", and "it'll pass"...because we're not fine, and we won't get better, and it's not passing.

I love him. Poet, inventor, creator, statue brought to life, as he's brought my doll to life...I do. I do love him. As much, though in different ways, as I love the wandering moon, as I love my neko lad. But no more nights ending in mornings. I can't do that. I've reached a breaking point. I can't, cannot, no longer, no more.

No more.

(Lyric bits from Fiona Apple's song "Extraordinary Machine".)

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