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›comments[0] ›all comments ›post #919 ›bio: kristen ›perma-link ›6/24/2026 ›09:05 ›archives ›first post ›that week
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the most ironic part was the man she had used to end her first marriage 22 years ago, they had ignited when he asked her what she was thinking and she said, "oh I'm still blown over by the concept I heard today about physics - string theory I think - where something is changed when it observed. It reminds me of that weird thing about time and space and the stars you see are often already dead by the time the light reaches your eyes. If you really think about it all, it makes you realize something - but I don't know what. I'm just feel it's true though - observing something changes it, and that means we create our own reality collectively right?" she was back to trying tea instead of coffee. It was Wednesday. It was hard to keep the days straight. It had been hard to keep anything straight. Her attachment system had acted like Leon (yes fucking Leon again) was her dad reincarnate and had tried so hard to both win him back and mitigate the damage from when he would betray her. ouch. so old. so stupid. she had a master's degree... whatever whatever whatever. she was going to have to forgive herself for ... failing. Failing herself. She didn't have to courage to - was it courage? she'd call it that until she found a better term - perhaps a better one - the history - to believe someone could like her. She constantly had a part that mocked every compliment - every gesture "oh just wait, they'll leave soon. start preparing." There was the most beautiful red-headed woodpecker on the tree outside. She knew so many random things. She guessed she would just tell you forever until rich gets tired of paying the fee for his site. The random thing she knew about red-headed woodpeckers is that the hoopa Indians (the only tribe not conquered by white man - and it was only because they were so remote and the soldiers en route to use brutal force were called away to fight in the civiil war. The hoopa would hunt the red-headed woodpecker for that beautiful red, and they'd make coats out of it. They also ate acorns... "oh shit, I left my diary out right beside you. Did you look at it!" she teased him. They were laying in the bed after she had gone downstairs to take a foto with her mother for her birthday. Narcissi was always fucking triggered by her family but better than it used to be - yay progress. She had been venting - to her diary, but had put it down when her mother texted "come back. I want a picture with all my children now." He looked at her, "you know, I didn't see it there, but I was just thinking that I should never look at your diary. I was reminding myself." She didn't ask what he meant because she assumed so much in order to survive. maybe she was correct 51% so it spurred her on. This time, her assumption was easy and in character, she thought "oh, he probably thinks that if he really knew my mind, he'd think I was vapid and stupid and unworthy of his driving." She doesn't remember what deflecting joke she replied with, but she wishes she had asked "why". Stupid Narcissi. She had that part that annihilated her and told her not to hope, but she had that other quieter part that thought she would have all the time in the world with this man. It was their second month of going out, but narcissi was extremely bizarrely efficient in picking her men. She had poked him in the first three hours of their five hour date and gotten satisfactory answers that nailed her to his cross. For better and in this case worse. She wondered if maybe she should have kept him from her family for a while - waited until he knew her better - but she was so thrilled fucking fucking fucking thrilled to have someone run interference for her. It was so so so so so so so so so so so so so hard to do it alone. but she was used to it of course. alone again. she had read the diary entries leading up to Christmas and fucking cringed. it was terrible to see herself so ... in need of therapy - or of someone objective to say "you need to accept that this is triggering your childhood wounds - I know you don't believe it yet - but much of what this intense feeling is is that you're trying to win back what was lost - what was lost long long ago. he reminds you of your father: cold, intellectual, withholding, brilliant, popular, opinionated. this is making you question everything - it makes you think that every positive nice gesture is a lie. every withholding is an affirmation that you are going to get hurt. you have a strong part of you that doesn't want you to be blindsided. that part makes conclusions that are always against your value/hope. you need to be friends with that part - thank it. You also need to practice risking disappointing people by asking for what you want. You also need to know that what you want is ok to want. You're actually not an anxious attached freak. You're disorganized attached if that helps. You have been taught that you need love but that love is dangerous. it makes perfect sense. and the reason you have no idea what this all is - well that's because you haven't been in love in ages and it only comes out when you're in love." maybe maybe that would have helped. it was so very very very hard to say what she wanted. that's why she was alone a lot. what had she wanted? to explore, to try, to feel chosen/safe just for the time they were together - not ... oh god it was hard. it reminded her of that time she had homework from the cult, "pray for something you want" and she had cried on the way back because she had realized she didn't think she deserved anything she wanted. what does she want now? obviously she wants to talk to him again, to have a beer - to be someone who has learned something very important: she mattered - she was going to try to test - it was ok to admit it - in fact wise to do so what does she want that's realistic? she wants to say 'hope' but Henry miller always spoke up mocking that when she thought it. faith maybe? but what a loaded word. peace? oh sure but... maybe she'd settle for a walk - although it wasn't really want. it was more 'what else'. she'd have a think. always. she's rewrite that day - the last day. now. while her lentils were cooling from the microwave. "Kind Leon" he had been confused by her. but he wasn't going to ask anything. it didn't matter that much, and he certainly didn't want her to get her hopes up that he cared - that he liked her. He wasn't sure himself. Best to just not go there. Besides, he knew what she would say. He didn't want to hear it. He got drunk on Boxing Day with his homies and tried to drum up some action to replace her. That placeholder text had been way too needy. He could see this coming. He was tired the next day and so hungover that coffee was all he could stomach. He sent her some texts from instagram. one was kind of a clue "don't ask a man what he thinks." he laughed when she immediately texted back, "WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?". She was nice but fucking traumatized. he seemed to always get the father issues gals, but he'd think about that later - mostly he assumed that's all that was left on the market anymore. He called her, discussed his day the gym, the walk, the crossword, but forgot the nap. He showed up to her house just before evening and said immediately, "I forgot the nap. I'm so tired." she had just tried to corner him with trying to get him to refute she was a placeholder. he wasn't falling for it. He kind of knew all he had to say was "I just need some time. I'm not seeing anyone else, but I do still look on the apps. It's not anything wrong with you - I just like my freedom. I like what we have, but I need to step back and go slower. " she'd freak. but maybe she would have understood. They went to dinner at a new place. the oysters were good. he ate all the crab dip - it was salty but ok. He didn't like any of the movies she suggested so put on superman. he felt bad and told her, 'I'm going to go to sleep and this will cut off." she said ok. when he came to bed, she had the pillow fort all ready so he didn't have to do it - a line of pillows separating them. he laughed. she reached to touch his hair and put herself against his body. he endured it but ignored it. she went away. the next morning, he fucked her. he liked it. he came. breakfast kind of sucked. he was bummed the bagel place wasn't open. she was being weird. she tried to get him to say something when she asked if he wanted to keep doing the bag thing, he replied, "whatever you want". He never asked questions anymore. he didn't really want to know but thought she was nice enough. he left around 10am. she tried to kiss him goodbye, his lips were closed - he wasn't into kissing passionately with her - anymore. he made it about an hour before the text on his Hyundai (she liked the symbolism because it was the same make car her fist husband had driven) showed up. He groaned, here it was - the old 'I want more.' oh well. he was glad not to have to make that drive again. He wondered if he should go to the gym before hitting the hi-lo for his burger. He denied to go straight to the hi-lo. he could use a beer - and maybe a shot.
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