An experiment in contrast.

Love! (circa May 4, 2004)

I'm certainly not qualified to expound on the intricacies of love qua love, no one is I'd wager. But lately I've started to realize that what I have actually is love, and not merely lip service. I can't imagine (read: I would prefer not to imagine) my life (in this regard at least) as any different than it is right now. It's unpleasant and difficult and it requires some decisions I'd rather not have to make, but I'd do it the same way again if I had to, perhaps I'd do a better job on my end in some ways, but nothing drastic. The prospect of being apart for yet another year, and perhaps more years even after that has made me incredibly unhappy, but I'll take unhappiness with her over some modicum of happiness without her. A certainty in my life. How novel! I have been worrying, however, about just what she thinks about the whole affair. I mean I know what we've discussed, infinitely and exhaustingly, but I say things I don't mean and I don't say things that I probably should; it must be similar for her. Although, I'm by nature rather more duplicitous and 'opaque' in a lot of ways than she is. So much the better (for both of us!). This is an aimless tangent, but one I've been thinking about a lot as of late. I hope things work out, I'm not very sure at all that they will.

This just in: FRAUD! (circa June 12, 2005)

So many times you feel as though you know somebody, that the tendrils linking you with them are clearly visible, that you can see why they are who they are--that the kind of secrets they keep won't alter what you think of them, or how you feel about them.

But all we know is what we see and what we infer: what we see is a partial picture, sometimes carefully crafted to avoid certain infelicitous impressions that might otherwise allow us to see something we weren't meant to. And what we infer is even more tenuous; what we infer relies upon an impeccably accurate analysis and understanding of what we've seen, felt, and known. Without this our inferences rest on nothing but misplaced trust.

I'm not a very strong person, I'm not a master (or even an initiate) of self control. But I'm capable of seeing what--who--is valuable in my life and at least attempting (with all my clumsiness and rudeness) to maintain it and support it.

Up until now I've assumed that you've also been able to do this, though, obviously, in your own way. It's part of what I loved about you, part of who I thought you were. But you're clearly not the person I've imagined I loved.

You're either a very different person, incapable of a modicum of self-control, or you simply don't care about what I thought existed between us. In either case I'm now certain that I've been deluded (by you, by myself, or both) about all of this, and I'm not the sort of person who willfully maintains delusion.

I'm cutting all this away.
And I'm doing it as impersonally as I can.


I'm an arrogant and self-absorbed person. And what of her? I deserve what I've gotten.