liebesleid

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i listened to xasthur's "bleak necrotic paleness" while lamenting

Jetzt habe ich mein Leben um Denken an Sie erweitert und es gibt wohl kaum eine Viertelstunde während meines Wachseins, in der ich nicht an Sie gedacht hätte, und viele Viertelstunden, in denen ich nichts anderes tue.

-- franz kafka, briefe an felice (1967)

after our most recent and presumably final split in may, i eventually told my former partner that we couldn't be friends, and that further correspondence as such would not work for me. it wasn't malice or lack of interest in her as a person that made me write those words. it was being unable to grapple with the idea of her life continuing without me, it perhaps being better that way and having to confront that behemoth of a thought. the months after telegram delivered those messages felt like nothing. it's probably the closest thing to existing in a vacuum i have ever experienced. the days blurred together until they didn't, and i was finally confronted with the fact that my life had been built around being with another person that no longer wanted to be with me. and i didn't handle the ensuing chaos in my brain particularly well

i won't bore you with the embarrassing details, but eventually i couldn't take the silence i imposed on us any longer and messaged her, telling her how empty i and my life now were and that i needed her back. it was strange. i'm almost 30. i thought i had learned something from previous splits throughout my twenties and that i had matured to a point where heartbreak no longer existed. "no take-backs" was my rule. i realize now it's more probable that my heart just hadn't really been part of any sort of equation in over a decade, and that i was now rediscovering what it was actually like to lose someone you wanted to spend a lifetime with

to my desperate plea of giving us another shot, my former partner responded by telling me how i was barely a person, and that i should probably work on not being depressed first. to her it was probably strange that i fell apart the way i did just because a relationship ended. and i say "just" here because that's presumably what it was in her mind, "just another relationship". i wasn't really that important. she could see that life had more in store post-me. as for me, i couldn't imagine a life post-her, still can't if i'm being honest with myself

in the face of this sudden absence of meaning and the irrelevance of life past this point, i find myself going a bit insane. the idea of continuing onwards, of once more bearing the cross of the solitary young adult male, shy and thus invisible to those around him, the idea of again skulking through life alone, hoping for a rendezvous with a new person you like and can comfortably be around that might never come, of starting over and putting effort into nourishing something probably imperfect that will shatter at any moment, it all makes me sick. sick because i don't really care for someone new. i don't want to meet anyone. i care for someone old. i had found the person and they slipped my grasp. what now? what if this is it? happiness to truly never return. "it will come once more" is the default response to this. the words mean well, but they are empty and have nothing to stand on apart from some idea of "reality" one dreams up based on what they believe to be true, and that's worthless to me. is it really so implausible to never be happy again after losing what you love? some switch flipping in your head, never to be unflipped

i too spend almost every quarter of every hour thinking of the woman of my dreams. it's gut-wrenching that she now only exists in my memories

I’m a negative of a person. All I want is blackness, blackness and silence - Sylvia Plath