Mortal Combat

My adventures this weekend were not with Sam. I planned a 16 course surprise adventure banquet for the boy of complex description to be able to spend time together doing things other than working on something or healing (although i'm not sure that it is ever possible for me to completely avoid doing those things internally). the weekend was indeed surprising and not just for him. the parts that he tells me were his favourite were not what i would have predicted and they were echoed by my own - making me think once again whaaa??? who are you? where have you come from? are you in fact real? [i have questioned him at length on the reality of his existence. i remain unconvinced. still investigating. is it possible to believe something so hard that you will it into being?]

500 days of summer at the princess theatre ripped my chest open and left me feeling awed and raw. someone wrote one of my stories and played it for me. a story i am not finished. a story i am stuck somewhere in the middle of. perhaps not stuck, perhaps unenthusiastically moving forward in. there were ACTUALLY lines that i have ACTUALLY said in this ACTUAL situation. subconsciously i was convincing myself that my end could be different as the movie progressed, that the ends of stories were seldom the same. then zoey deschanel opens her mouth and says "i was sure with him, the way i never could be with you" and my subconscious shrugged its defeated shoulders and shut up. argue, dammit, put up a fight! my subconscious remained silent and a hole began expanding inside me where hope had been. do not feel sad for me, dear reader, holes need to open to be filled with new enriching emotions. i know this intellectually, even if i can't feel it just yet.

the rest of the weekend of adventure was funny, entertaining, energetic, outrageous and beautiful but i couldn't get back the carefree feeling i had at the begging, swinging at Goldie Mill Park. underneath it all, i felt heavy. the burden of realization, maybe. the painful grasping of acceptance. i am fighting every urge to cling to my favourite. to use his love to fill this space, to push out the pain. i am fighting not to grab and take, to make him my caretaker. this is NOT what i want, no matter what else i feel.

this is not the overwhelming darkness overtaking me like in my past lives. this is sadness working its way through back behind positive emotions from the things i am experiencing. i know because when i yelled MORTAL COMBAT at the storms battling while we ate bbq on the front porch last night and the boy of complex description laughed in a half humoured, half hysterical way, that was real joy and real love that i felt. mortal combat, bah, i'm so witty!