Pat Gunn (dachte) wrote,
Pat Gunn

Past the Fence

A recollection. Last Friday evening. I left work, to go to the philosophy gathering. I stopped by home, changed very rapidly, and headed off to Town Addiction. I was late. After I finally got there, I saw it was all dark inside. Closed. I called one of the other people in the group, and he was off to see some concert -- he wasn't even planning on going. Alone. So, I decided to see if Jason was around. I stopped by his place, and saw the windows were open, but the lights were out and he didn't answer the phone. After calling for awhile and walking around back to see if he had just stepped out, I decided to try calling his name through the window. He was asleep in there, but wasn't keen on getting up. So, I got back in my car, and called Lorie while driving to her home. No answer. I was rather hungry, and it was only about 22:00, so I decided to go to Taco Bell. I ended up going to THE taco bell, the place where Martha and I had spent so many meals while we were together. I felt kind of sad, sitting there alone, full of those memories while eating the same sort of food. (Heck, I should've made a Nastidrink, my term for a horrid mix of 3 or more pops) It was still early, so I came back home, set my alarm, and slept. I woke up around 0:20, and after about 10 minutes of futzing around, headed off to Outland. I did some dancing for a bit. Around 1ish, that girl that I have a crush on, Jessica, showed up with her boyfriend. They seem so happy together. She has a lot of gusto. Oh well. Dancing alone, vaguely nearby, it made me feel rather wistful again. Again I submerged myself in 'what ifs' and thoughts of the way things could've been if reality were slightly differently shaped. I thought of other potential mes, one which still had a relationship with Martha, one which had met Jessica several years earlier and was with her, one who had not left his ex-bf (although this is highly improbable), one who had somehow ended up with someone to share himself with. Those other mes, I so wanted to be them, instead of myself, dancing near someone I have a crush on while they dance and are otherwise merry with their bf, also thinking about someone else I'm still partly in love with who will be moving soon, with their current bf, to some other city. But then I felt a certain calmness come over me, an odd feeling of resignation, of hopes being cut away like fingers caught in a slamming car door. This is my life. I am a place-holder. It seems to be part of my identity to watch others, to understand but only to share vicariously their happiness. But it's strangely not depressing. I can get a certain kind of pleasure in observing. I can see all the expressions people give each other, all the looks and subtleties, and I can feel them. The passions, the anger, the love. They're not mine anymore, but I can feel them. Prajna. I have the tools and the right place to stand to move the earth, or otherwise to declare it impossible.

Blahblah. I really shouldn't write entries when I'm so fried. I spent the night at work last night, and didn't sleep much. I just tried to go to sleep, and this journal entry, or at least the spur to write, came to my head. I think I'll go back to sleep -- tomorrow I'm set to tour the half-duplex I'm considering moving to.

Tags: love

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