wake up… – its’ time…

It’s just about time to kill myself again.

Prologue

Kind of a attention grabbing line to just leave hanging out there don’t ya think? I couldn’t resist. I have a >lot< of work to do… but if I go crazy inside what will it help me to succeed? Consider this a purge so I can get back to work.

The question of why I should post this level of personal stuff on the net is beyond the scope of this message because I don’t have a fucking clue 🙂

Side notes:

Thanks for the Sandman series, I can’t believe it took this long. Somehow, I needed it now. Odd.
I am sorry for everyone who is tired of hearing me whine if you decide to read further. What can I say?
To her: I know, the last thing you need right now is more of this from me. If I could delay it all I would, but somehow I think this is the right time to examine myself. I am, most assuredly, attemting to stop my hemmoraging of angst and will soon be back to happy and glib 🙂
On the bright side, you can all pretend you never read any of this.

Warning: Deeply Personal Self Indulgent Crap Ahead.

Last night, I was reminded of a relationship I had a long time ago, almost 7 years ago – not a healthy one – that ended with my (figurative) death. The only way to become happy with myself again was rebirth. Reinvention…

Reincarnation.

I think it’s time to try that again. I am not sure if I can pull it off – I didn’t do it perfectly the last time either. I can tell because I have the same flaws I thought and prayed I had eradicated… it has simply take them long years to reach the surface again.

In short form… I failed someone I love deeply a few years ago, and in the process something inside me that I realize now is important was deeply wounded. The term I used when I thought of this in my own mind is “Cat”. Cat is a he. Cat is my soul. Cat is that part of me that provides whatever pretension to alphaness I might have.

Cat is deeply asleep.
Cat is wounded and cold.
Cat is alone. Cat is lost.

Years ago I fell in love with someone, someone I still love and I am sure I will always love. Over the course of a long and (mostly) fruitless courtship I tried to show her the part of me that I thought would win her. It wasn’t until I allowed, in my frustration, Cat to show himself to her that she really seemed to take notice. Cat won her for me – as much as she was ever mine.

It is also possible my imagination has warped my memory over time. But that doesn’t matter – it is my memory of events that has shaped my feelings and actions. For all the intents and purposes of this narrative this is ‘the truth’.

At the culmination of that courtship Cat won my prize for me, for us. She came, and she laid herself at Cats feet… after having been an instrument of the destruction of the world she had built, it was Cat that she reached for.

Cat was there. For good or ill. He was there. In bidding her to jump, Cat promised to catch her.

She jumped. Cat was not there when she fell.

Why? So many reasons. Many of them even sound good and reasonable. Reasons that keep me warm in the darkness when I wonder in awe at my own weakness. Reasons that make ‘sense’. Reasons that even cloak themselves in the robes of compassion, or love, or kindness. Some of these reasons even whisper that they were ‘for the best’.

In my fear, I pushed Cat away when the call came.
In my cowardice, I asked for assurances that this was not a failure.
In my blindness, I pretended the answers mattered.

This is also ‘the truth’.

Pathetic.

I am not at all sure what the right answers to the questions she asked me that night were. I am still not sure what the correct course of action was. I know what Cat said then, I know he had part of the answer, and I know I ignored him.

It doesn’t matter. I do not need to know what would have been right to look back and see what I did – at the very least HOW I did it, was wrong. I knew it in the instant after I did it. I cried at the time, I think I hoped it was a release of the tension – it was simply my anger at myself.

In a very real way, I have never seen Cat again since that night. There is a hole in my memory shortly after that night, during a time when she and I lay together – a few minutes or hours that I do not remember. I tasted him when I came back to myself. He was there with her then for a time I think.

So, when the time came for Cat to help, to be there for the person who counted on him, I pushed him aside and I failed – Her / Me / Cat. Cat went to sleep I think, pushed me away as completely as I rejected him.

Since that time, I like to think a deep relationship has formed. Love even, if I acknowledge my hopes. It’s a good relationship, strong and it will be with me (us?) for the rest of my (our?) life (lives?). But it isn’t what it could have been. It isn’t what it might have been.

Because I failed, and neither of us can trust me anymore. When the time comes to lead – neither of us knew if I would be there to do it. This forced a lot of changes…

If I do not count on myself to lead, I am not sure she will follow. So I don’t lead.

If I will not lead, who will? What Cat called forth retreats again, for lack of the protection and surety that drew it out.

We orbit each other… as she is alternately attracted to what remains of Cat in me, and repelled by the shell that is all that was left when Cat disappeared. I am amazed that the memory of him is powerful enough that she stayed this long.

I don’t know if that’s right either – but it’s ‘true’.

As before – the excuses sound so good. As before, they make sense. As before, they are the ‘right’ things to do. As before – it is all a lie.

I cannot continue like this of course. How long could you live without an arm? Now imagine something you dream about lies just out of your reach.

How do you grow that arm back?
How do you wake a sleeping Cat?
How do you regain your own trust?
How do you regain the trust of a fallen child?

Those questions I will look to answer in the next few days – I am not sure I can think of anything else.

I know one other thing. She can help. The scent that called Cat to her a long time ago can call again, the voice most likely to wake him is not mine… he doesn’t really trust me anymore, but he would eventually trust her if her call was true. No one but me can sustain him, but he can be woken by another.

I will reincarnate no doubt, but the help would be cool.

Pathetic.

Epilogue

This narrative seems to have fizzled out. It seems that now that I have said my piece about the past I don’t know what to say about the next step. But that is the way it is when the muse walks away. Richard Bach once said that his muse did not come easily, that it kicked in his door and grabbed him by the throat until he wrote… I feel like that on this page.

Richard Bach said a great many other things in his books, in Illusions he said this…

‘Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they’re yours.’

There is another quote that might be of some use to someone in my audience, and they know who they are…

‘Shop for security over happiness and we buy it at that price.’

Some polls for the audience…

wake up… – its’ time…

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