What to say...? Sitting very still, very silent, makes me see the depths of my own sadnesses. I only work three days this week. I finish up on Wednesday night. She was supposed to arrive on Thursday morning. I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about her not coming, how I feel about us not talking anymore. I wonder if I should write to her – write her a “no hard feelings...wish you well...” letter. Post it off with my best handwriting... But then, would that be picking at a scab? Picking at a scab for my own relief? I think I should leave it alone...
When I think of things I’ve had with her, I smile. Things I’ll probably never have again. Bizarre ways to spend time, original moments, genuine laughter... But then I think of the silences around her – the moments where I felt a complete distance. A distance I feel for all people, all moments. An inability to sympathise or empathise with anyone fully. If she’d decided to keep this trip, keep it as I’d kept my trip last year, kept it as a farewell trip, we’d have probably had a great time. We’d have held each other like two desperately lonely people in a vast raging sea, trying to keep afloat. We’d have played silly games, worked on odd art projects, kissed, acted like children and grown ups... We’d have those silences as well though. We’d have me being unable to relate to her sudden mood change and her wanting me to leave her alone anyway.
The years I’ve known her have been great. The years I’ve known her, terrible. She struck me as the most real person, the most heartfelt, genuine person but she also struck me as a snob, as arrogant sometimes and I always had this feeling that she was incredibly pretentious. So, sometimes genuine, sometimes fake. Isn’t that all of humanity though? One thing one minute and the next minute something else entirely? At odds with ourselves and at odds with everything else?
If I could shed a tear for our “thing” having reached its end, I would have an idea. A tear is an idea. If the tear falls blue it’s sadness and regret, if the tear falls clear it’s relief. I think I’m relieved that it’s over because I’m aware that I never fully committed to her or any idea of us. I never fully commit to anything. I always have one foot on the floor. I have a block in my head that tells me that everything is fleeting, that this is just transitory, a step in the direction of something else. Something else, however, is always something else and something else and... And the worry is that I will never be satisfied, never be contented. Nothing makes sense and I’m continually expectant of the block falling into the right hole – the moment where all sense is revealed and I know what it is and what I am... I feel such a great inability to Do.
Already I’m beginning to feel that I won’t be able to live with my new flat mate for any real length of time. We’ve signed a three years' lease, rather, he has signed a three years lease. I’ve always been aware of his miserable/sad/depressed state and I thought I could cope with living with such a person, but I’m finding it very tough. Everything I feel like saying, I don’t because I know it will be of no interest to him. Everything he says to me (everything sucks and it’s all going to end and we’ll all die and...) is of little interest. I’m aware of the state of the world but to focus on things out of my control as he does would lead to me to of a similar disposition. I worry that this disposition is contagious. He and I really don’t have anything in common. I see him as a flatmate now, rather than a friend I share a flat with. It’s been less than two months since we moved in. I can see that I’ll spend more and more time in my own room and begin to hate living here. Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to live by myself with a private landlord, so I’d have to rejoin the council housing list, which can take years to offer any results... Leaving me with one unsavoury option – move back in with my mum.
16 December 2007
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