Wednesday 23 November 2011

Different ways of working

At the moment I'm thinking about something else other than mental health. I've just done a typing spree and I'm thinking of something else to take a quick break.

It's a person I want to email with something I think is funny.

I ...and then a word... you so much I wish I was gay.

The problem is there's a part of that statement I find funny. The bit I'm labouring over is the ...and then a word... bit.

I don't know what the word is I can use. Love. Like. Am smitten by. Am infatuated by. Am possessed and consumed. Am a passionate person who, when he feels for someone, feels with an intensity few others have to deal with or repress.

This person I fell in love with. She was a friend and that was all I would have wanted or asked for. I felt lucky to have her in my life. I couldn't wish for any more and, for untold reasons, would not.

To me it feels like she wants nothing to do with me. It isn't her fault for that. I've not been helping. I think part of the problem is I am still truthful about my feelings for her.

I don't know what they are though. I can't name them. I wondered today if she was just my muse. To me she is absolutely, drop dead beautiful. Her beauty has become painful to see because I...I'm not allowed to feel it or see it as beautiful.

She has a boyfriend and...well...he's a better man than I. I only ever wanted friendship and I tried not to fall in love with her.

So my feelings for her are beyond friendship. But they're not. They never were until one point where I was cornered about my affection. Until then I had just suppressed it and tried to be normal as a friend.

I am okay with those feelings though it can be hard to deal with. It does hurt. But life happened and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know how to get back what I want: just our friendship.

The joke I came up with I won't send to her because I've trained myself not to send any more drunken messages.

I think you are so beautiful I wish I was gay.

Sums it up really. In a funny way. Just want to be friends.

Sent from my smartphone

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About Me

We It comes in part from an appreciation that no one can truly sign their own work. Everything is many influences coming together to the one moment where a work exists. The other is a begrudging acceptance that my work was never my own. There is another consciousness or non-corporeal entity that helps and harms me in everything I do. I am not I because of this force or entity. I am "we"