(a note to my very first girlfriend / my high-school girlfriend) (has since been edited)

you'll get no (okay maybe a little) advice from me on your ex. I usually wind up at one extreme or another. (actually, it's not extreme or another it's total loss of perspective or perspective not adjusted at all, so go figure.)

Sometimes I meet a woman that touches my soul--or maybe just sends me directly into obsessive fixation fanaticism --- infatuation. Both parties then try to play it cool, wondering about loss of perspective, vicious circles of doubts and perceived slights and playing coy. Dredging of the most horrible admissions to make, and touching reassurances that she can see the good inside. Pain, jealousy, fear of loss. Domestic fantasies. Attempt to salvage the situation by bailing--that is, give up and come back to it later. Intense encounter, mixed messages and renewed lack of perspective. Tragic coincidences, high tempers, aversions to anger.

I suppose my ex(?) touched me but without the infatuation happening. They say that infatuation and disillusionment are a pair--when you're infatuated, you invent good things about the subject. When disillusioned, bad things. I can see how that fits into trust and jealousy, too. I suppose mild disillusionment can lead into a long-term secure-but-frustrating situation.

Two(+?) years ago, I tried to will myself to see it differently. I'd examined my judgments (obviously, only the ones visible to introspection). I tried to believe. I know the joy is inside her--I've seen it, once or twice. I know it's inside everyone. But she doesn't know her own rules are killing her.

She's wearing down. The path she's on is slowly eating her. She denies it. When pressed, she admits it, and says that that's just what she has to do. I tell her it doesn't have to be that way. She doesn't believe me.

Rules. Say they're like fences, she stays far back from them, cowed. You leap against them screaming. Both are steered a great means by the rules. My dream woman, my partner in crime, leans against them, climbs them, hangs her hand-washables on them, knows where the gates are, and sometimes builds purposely strange ones just for entertainment.

Or I could just be infatuated with her. I will not obsess. I will not obsess. I will not obsess... (update: over it.)