Are there really missed moments?
Yes, yes, yes.
In my mind they are missed moments and they destroy my life, every time a little more. I am not wise. I am not Proust and I have not learnt how to find lost time again. I just keep on losing it, and it drives me crazy, every time a little more.
And just yesterday evening before bedtime I thought I am over boys now, definitely into men. But there is no connection.
You say are you home and I am not.
You say envelopes and I went running.
I don't dare offer to pick you up lest you turn me down because you don't want to bother me.
Is there any hope for us?
No, no and no.
Everything is always and will always be just wrong.
I know already that I am fundamentally wrong in the universe and that all the things I do, have done and even those I haven't done are wrong, should have been done differently. I should have tried more, with someone else maybe, and certainly at another time. OR NOT EVEN.
But then again, two other possibilities.
I am just so unimportant that even if you are the most important person to me it is worth nothing.
In the scene in Birdman, Emma Stone shouts that you are not important and that you should get over it. That's something she says because her father doesn't care about her, or at least she thinks he doesn't, or the movie itself wants to say that that's the reason why she screams like that. And also in her sobriety camp she was supposed to learn humility by writing the numbers on toilet paper.
So, as it will never be normal or relaxed, I thought like an idiot that I am, and I missed it again. I thought it would be weird and you would feel uncomfortable and therefore I would not be able to jump and explode with sheer happiness to see you just to know you are back because you are the happiness on Earth for me. But maybe it would have been like that. We will never know because of course I spoiled it again. In the course of the last years I have learnt that it is better if I suggest nothing because you don't say no if I don't say nothing. But this time it was wrong. I should have offered and I had the message written on the phone and I even told you that and I bet that was wrong again and it makes you invite other women into our house again. Other women who are nicer and smarter and who do the right thing at the right time, not like me, walking through the town, ripping out her hair.
Today would have been the only hopefully last chance of a missed moment where I could have come to pick you up and we could have been happy, for once. We will never be happy. I will always spoil it, always think when I should act, and the other way around. But I spoiled it again. I wish to God and the Universe that I will not have to go through this again, that you find a good other person who acts right and is patient and is there when you need her and that is not fundamentally wrong in the universe. An eternity of lonely nights for me, and an eternity of joyful right pleasurable patient and lively company for you. Good-bye. Please forget me, I will forget myself and just die inside.
I think I know where this whole terribleness comes from. Some families are not like that, but in mine there was this demon that I caught, because I am the weakest.
The father, the man, expects some things from his chosen woman. She needs to be independent, and sexy, and have some undefined strength to provide him with the "repos du guerrier". Then she fails, and he goes out looking for alternatives. That does not make him happy either because most of the women are disappointments. Then, the daughters take it all, they get sick or depressed or become unable to enjoy anything or find purpose, fill up life with things that are important and nice, like men can, they don't worry so much, they put the blame on the woman, and the blame is gone from them, it's on her.
In swiched at birth another educational show for me that teaches about problems people have. Especially teenagers. But it is still most interesting how they react to things. Daphne has a chance for a casual sex relationship and turns it down after thinking it through, very matter of factly, the way she does things, not crying or recoiling or hoping things get better by themselves like I do. She just walks right in there and complains that he behaved like he barely knew her. And that he did not indtroduce her to his friends. Although he invited her over in front of them, I thought that was very nice. She seemed to have no emotions at all. She just said she wants to have conversations outside the bedroom. And he says that's called a relationship. She wants one, he doesn't. So simple. Matter of fact. And it sounded so simple, so fast. Two people meet and they talkd and they have sex and that's a relationship. Maybe it is just so simple. Why do we complicate things then? One, and one, then two, and then if it doesn't work out, next one? Is it not that simple?Even without emotions, without paying real attention. He said he has a broken heart. That becomes a stereotype in romantic tv-shows. He has a broken heart and wants to protect it. Do women ever do that? Do women ever say things like that? Or do we know that it doesn't make sense to protect your heart, because that hurts so much more because then time stops and moments get spoiled. And things become weird and have a fake taste.
Well, I guess it is good to say things like that; to complain when there is something wrong. But in movies it is always easier, without the whole innuendo, the whole shades of grey of everything, the whole emotional range that is involved in a relation between two people. And I always try to understand most of them before I do something, which makes me cry a lot and makes me be lonely a lot and makes me write a lot and appear weird a lot. But well, that's the way I am. And no one really knows what to do with that. Least of all people, you.
But I was so happy to see you this morning. So, so happy. To hug and kiss you. As always, when I see you. You make the heart warm inside and the home complete again.
Yes, yes, yes.
In my mind they are missed moments and they destroy my life, every time a little more. I am not wise. I am not Proust and I have not learnt how to find lost time again. I just keep on losing it, and it drives me crazy, every time a little more.
And just yesterday evening before bedtime I thought I am over boys now, definitely into men. But there is no connection.
You say are you home and I am not.
You say envelopes and I went running.
I don't dare offer to pick you up lest you turn me down because you don't want to bother me.
Is there any hope for us?
No, no and no.
Everything is always and will always be just wrong.
I know already that I am fundamentally wrong in the universe and that all the things I do, have done and even those I haven't done are wrong, should have been done differently. I should have tried more, with someone else maybe, and certainly at another time. OR NOT EVEN.
But then again, two other possibilities.
I am just so unimportant that even if you are the most important person to me it is worth nothing.
In the scene in Birdman, Emma Stone shouts that you are not important and that you should get over it. That's something she says because her father doesn't care about her, or at least she thinks he doesn't, or the movie itself wants to say that that's the reason why she screams like that. And also in her sobriety camp she was supposed to learn humility by writing the numbers on toilet paper.
So, as it will never be normal or relaxed, I thought like an idiot that I am, and I missed it again. I thought it would be weird and you would feel uncomfortable and therefore I would not be able to jump and explode with sheer happiness to see you just to know you are back because you are the happiness on Earth for me. But maybe it would have been like that. We will never know because of course I spoiled it again. In the course of the last years I have learnt that it is better if I suggest nothing because you don't say no if I don't say nothing. But this time it was wrong. I should have offered and I had the message written on the phone and I even told you that and I bet that was wrong again and it makes you invite other women into our house again. Other women who are nicer and smarter and who do the right thing at the right time, not like me, walking through the town, ripping out her hair.
Today would have been the only hopefully last chance of a missed moment where I could have come to pick you up and we could have been happy, for once. We will never be happy. I will always spoil it, always think when I should act, and the other way around. But I spoiled it again. I wish to God and the Universe that I will not have to go through this again, that you find a good other person who acts right and is patient and is there when you need her and that is not fundamentally wrong in the universe. An eternity of lonely nights for me, and an eternity of joyful right pleasurable patient and lively company for you. Good-bye. Please forget me, I will forget myself and just die inside.
I think I know where this whole terribleness comes from. Some families are not like that, but in mine there was this demon that I caught, because I am the weakest.
The father, the man, expects some things from his chosen woman. She needs to be independent, and sexy, and have some undefined strength to provide him with the "repos du guerrier". Then she fails, and he goes out looking for alternatives. That does not make him happy either because most of the women are disappointments. Then, the daughters take it all, they get sick or depressed or become unable to enjoy anything or find purpose, fill up life with things that are important and nice, like men can, they don't worry so much, they put the blame on the woman, and the blame is gone from them, it's on her.
In swiched at birth another educational show for me that teaches about problems people have. Especially teenagers. But it is still most interesting how they react to things. Daphne has a chance for a casual sex relationship and turns it down after thinking it through, very matter of factly, the way she does things, not crying or recoiling or hoping things get better by themselves like I do. She just walks right in there and complains that he behaved like he barely knew her. And that he did not indtroduce her to his friends. Although he invited her over in front of them, I thought that was very nice. She seemed to have no emotions at all. She just said she wants to have conversations outside the bedroom. And he says that's called a relationship. She wants one, he doesn't. So simple. Matter of fact. And it sounded so simple, so fast. Two people meet and they talkd and they have sex and that's a relationship. Maybe it is just so simple. Why do we complicate things then? One, and one, then two, and then if it doesn't work out, next one? Is it not that simple?Even without emotions, without paying real attention. He said he has a broken heart. That becomes a stereotype in romantic tv-shows. He has a broken heart and wants to protect it. Do women ever do that? Do women ever say things like that? Or do we know that it doesn't make sense to protect your heart, because that hurts so much more because then time stops and moments get spoiled. And things become weird and have a fake taste.
Well, I guess it is good to say things like that; to complain when there is something wrong. But in movies it is always easier, without the whole innuendo, the whole shades of grey of everything, the whole emotional range that is involved in a relation between two people. And I always try to understand most of them before I do something, which makes me cry a lot and makes me be lonely a lot and makes me write a lot and appear weird a lot. But well, that's the way I am. And no one really knows what to do with that. Least of all people, you.
But I was so happy to see you this morning. So, so happy. To hug and kiss you. As always, when I see you. You make the heart warm inside and the home complete again.
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