Dreams

Finally slept soundly (if only for a short time) last night. And that lead to dreams. And, as is my habit, I had a several dreams that were variations on a theme. (I think these dreams are some variation of Lucid Dreaming. when I'm not happy with the way one is going, I start it over.)

In my dreams last night, I was spooning with someone. The basic premise was "a nap." She and I were spoon up, me on the outside, and dozing. We were alone in the living room. The TV was going with "The American President" movie playing from the DVD. Occasionally, one would shift slightly to press closer together or to just reestablish the feeling of touching. There was nothing erotic or sexual about the touching.

It would be time to get up and she would be very angry or very hurt or both. Why, you might ask? I'll tell you.

With no intent on her part or mine for the napping to be sexual, she would either be pissed because I either did or didn't try to make it sexual, that I did or did not have an erection at any time during the spooning, or that I didn't make a big deal out of an erection if I had one.

It was no-win situation.

Fuck.

I just learned something I was not meant to know. Scix used my computer this morning and left himself logged in to LJ. I didn't know that it was he and not me who was logged in until I replied to a post.

I noticed that my reply had his name and icon. I immediately knew what happened and deleted it. Then I logged myself in so I could make the same reply as me.

The post I replied to wasn't there. I was not supposed to see that post.

And now, I feel like crap for having seen what I wasn't supposed to see.

sufferng

Suffering is optional. I guess this is a morning when I'm choosing it. ;)

I am deeply mired in "What's the fucking use." I feel like a half-human. Even my recent successes and breakthroughs only seem to highlight what is missing in me.

And Peggy Lee is singing to me again.

Okay. Enough.

ENOUGH.

I declare an end to that fucking song. I declare an end to the misery that comes with wishing what isn't so was so.

It has been nearly 35 years since I last seriously entertained notions of suicide.

How easy it is that I can conjure up those old daemons and listen to the siren song of oblivion.

ENOUGH. Everyone out of the fucking pool.

ENOUGH of "life will never turn out."

I don't have what I don't have. That's that.

Let's have a look at what I do have. Yes. Have a look at what's available in my life right now.

Get that fucking LIE out of my head.

Outloud is a good thing

A couple of hours ago, a friend called me. I haven't talked to him in quite awhile. He got to hear my whine from the dark side. I listened to his current issue.

We talked about "human being" for awhile. And about the bits of us that feel "wrong" or "bad."

And life lightened up.

Somewhere in the conversation, this came to me. (For the "you," substitute anyone that has ever caught my attention.)

"I'm not miserable because I want you and can't have you. I'm miserable because I want to want you and I don't."

That pretty much sums it up.