Twenty six
Yesterday I read that S died. It was a couple of years ago but we fell out of touch. It was weird because it had been so intense between us and it just dissipated and I never really understood why.
Maybe because she asked me to save her and I wouldn't. I couldn't. I was married and that meant something to me. More than it did to the woman I was married to. She had no commitment to anything or anyone but herself. That grew over time and look this is weird. I know you'll think, well, that must be your fault in some way, it really was. But not how you imagine.
She had never been valued and my valuing her gave her the space to become who she really was. But who she really was wasn't that good of a person. I feel like that's probably true of all of us.
Sometimes I wonder who I really am. I'm so broken up and incoherent, I don't think I can know. I've often felt like if I could just stop and take a deep breath, I'd discover myself and I'd still be good. But I can't. It's like I'm on ice and I have nothing to cling onto.
Now I'm going to be out of work again and that's going to be more struggle. It's a mix of bad feelings. The worst thing is it makes me feel I'm not valued. And these are people who I would never care about what they value in the first place. Like, if they ate pork, I'd want beef. The sheer fucking spectacle of a community football club, boasting in its media of how it's a family, just so welcoming, but perfectly happy to leave me, and the people depending on me, in desperate straits.
But that's life, isn't it? People can justify it to themselves and that's what they care about. So long as enough people kiss their arse because they do have money, that's what matters.
***
S created value for herself by becoming a valued editor on Wikipedia. She was a talented researcher and writer so it made sense that when she turned her talents to Wikipedia she would do well. I could have done the same but I preferred trolling and fighting. Probably the distance between S and me was that she already valued herself and I don't. For some reason I can't. I do try to understand why not, and of course a part of it is that my dad didn't.
But is that enough to break your self-image? Maybe it is. They do say we're formed as children. And I was a quiet, gentle boy who was despised for everything he thought was good about himself. That's quite difficult to build on. I'm not exaggerating. I was bullied for being clever. I was honest but people don't like that: they prefer lies that are socially acceptable. I was kind to people who don't value kindness. I understood things and people in ways they themselves didn't understand and no one likes things they don't understand. I was polite and reserved, not someone who would push their way to the front. I loved music, poetry and sport, although I was not very good at it.
I didn't then and don't now have a "public hobby". I don't really like politics or political structures. I was never very good at talking about the small things and didn't understand why people wanted to.
I don't know why S liked me. I don't think she had a strong grip on herself. Maybe I don't. I don't regret knowing her though. I loved her. I never met her in person but maybe that meant only that a meeting couldn't spoil things. And now nothing can because she is gone for good.
"It is an hour before dawn. I can hear the sound of the surf, I swear I can. But I am in the city, twenty kilometres from the sea.
But I carry it with me, wrapped up tight, a little globe full of glittering snow, a bird hopping on the stretch of golden sand, the waves rolling in, never ending, never pausing, the spray in my hair. I carry it with me, your kiss, your touch, the warmth of your smile. Twenty kilometres from the sea and we are dreaming of being together, lying in the sand, my hand in your jeans, it feels right to me. It is a long way to walk, an hour before dawn, a long way to walk until I am there, the spray in my hair, my hand in your hand, it feels right to me."
posted by Dr Zen @ 1:17 pm
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