Denial on Trial in Book Title.
- Feb. 26, 2016, 5:18 a.m.
- |
- Public
Docket of Cases:
- Does she complete him? Does the lie get deeper? I just realized what everyone else sees.... there’s a flood of communication behind the scenes. They’ve penned near novellas comparing goals and values affirmatively. The trust is established. It only takes two weeks to develop a habit. She’s convinced him of his own value, so much so that college became a priority.
Good? Or bad? I thought I was certain, until just now. I realized this moment that I’ve been had.
- Liars have hot dicks. There’s fire in his pants. I want to believe him. I’m willfully deceiving my most basic reasoning. Why am I willing to proceed with this after I’m sure of my immature motivations?
Why do I love him? Is it because he gets me? Really listens? Does he cultivate gentleness in every situation? Has he valued my safety as though it were his own? Am I certain he’s incapable of destroying me with premeditation? Am I safe in his arms?
Here’s the rub: I’m intoxicated with the possibility that he truly sees me. This man made a pledge to value my friendship eternally. A commitment to protect me (despite a couple of teensy weensy inappropriate tantrums that will never, ever happen again). Am I rubbing him or is he rubbing me? This circle jerk is confusing and unhealthy. How am I safely held by half his moral code? He’s only half orange. The blackened parts are my concern. How does a tiger change his stripes? Your soul is all bloodshot and tearstained in your heart home, I noticed when I peeped through your big round windows. Do you need contacts or is full laser eye surgery necessary? How shortsighted is your vision? Can you see past your nose or do you perceive an indistinct graying of the big blue sky? How many entwined fingers do you see clearly when you look toward me?
- I’m not done with the second point. I’m a sucker. He doesn’t truly see me. He says the right things & behaves differently. He means well with such incredible strength that even the broken willed can be mended by his love muscles. He can bench press more than half the work load cheerfully to prove his love’s stable and easily able to provide support when things get heavy. It’s a fairy tale and I wrote it. It’s every detail I’ve provided as an ideal love concept wrapped up in a big romantic gesture. It’s unconditional acceptance of my strange behavior, protection and honesty and communication. It’s enthusiastic awe for the progress I’ve made and artistic reverance for my dark, painful places. It’s a lie.
If something seems too good to be true, it probably isn’t the whole truth. I know the truth is double sided. Sometimes you get fucked and other times you fuck the people closest to you. I’m so tired of being ashamed of sex. I have many other points to address concerning the analyctical conclusions and hypothetical deslusions.
My feelings matter, somehow. I’ll figure it out eventually. For now, it’s quiet and I need to do science a little later in the day.
Last updated February 26, 2016
colojojo ⋅ March 01, 2016
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