Im some ways I've been dreading this time, yet knowing it was inevitable.
The vibrations were met with confused recondition as a made a mental check of the location of my phone during class. I knew it was not a students phone because it was on my left near the floor where my bag was placed. "But why did it vibrate?" I thought to myself, "I turned off email notifications."
After my last class, I casually started to clean up my belongings and looked at my Iphone. I had a notification on Skype.
I must admit, I really didn't think it would be her but it was and a small (7) was next her name signaling the number of times she tried to call. Being suspicious, I immediately checked the time difference from Los Angeles to Japan which is 16 hours and calculated that it was about 3:00am when she called me, she was drunk, I'm absolutely sure of it and here it how it panned out...
At the bar with her friends, she was now fairly intoxicated, yet she started to feel a creeping depression settling in. It came to life in the form of a single tear struggling to form past her mascara, tearing its way from her eye and down her smooth milky skin onto the harsh wood surface of the bar table. Looking down at her phone, she saw her way out. She dialed once, twice, and a third time only to be meet with a dial tone. In desperation she continued to dial, only after 4 more attempts did she realize, I would not (or could not) answer.
---I would like to think I'm genuinely a optimistic person and believe in the potential of others to change but I don't think...actually I know she will not change. I can no longer invest my future in this fleeting possibility, nor should I. My mother once said "when someone shows you who they are, believe them, the first time."
----I also realize that my heart still yearns for her and I'm sure it will for some time and I accept that. This process has been a interesting one, I must admit.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Thursday, October 18, 2012
The Dichotomy of Human Nature
I've been told part of the healing process after a relationship is recognizing the lessons that have been learned in the process.
One things that eludes me in this process is the ability to categorize Jennifer. We often take for granted the ability to quickly categorize others, often because of its subconscious nature. Such as in the case where I would categorize Jennifer as a mere Alcoholic and justify my decision to move away from her as a respite from a person who is desperately addicted to a substance and is bound for destruction. The problem lies within the confines of that label becasue although I could blame most of the catastrophic situations on Alcohol, can I also blame the love we shared on Alcohol? The answer is I cannot, which is why these posts seem to be manic depressant.
One the one hand I ruefully pulled away from her entrancing love and genuinely wish that were not the case but on opposing hand I know what it is like to shake, nearly to the point of paralysis, out of fear for the safety of another who occasionally lacks regards for their own well being. I am too familiar with the pain in my chest, yet I am also familiar with her entrancing presence and feelings of pure unhindered love when I can look into her eyes and see truth in her gaze.
We were two genuine people who met and shared a love which cannot be replaced. Let this love not sit on a shelf and rot, nor let us use it as shackles to imprison us.
The lesson I am learning summarizes the complex essence of human nature which squirms away from classification and moves towards simple existence.
"Life is about walking the tightrope between unfiltered passion and absolute logical thought."
One things that eludes me in this process is the ability to categorize Jennifer. We often take for granted the ability to quickly categorize others, often because of its subconscious nature. Such as in the case where I would categorize Jennifer as a mere Alcoholic and justify my decision to move away from her as a respite from a person who is desperately addicted to a substance and is bound for destruction. The problem lies within the confines of that label becasue although I could blame most of the catastrophic situations on Alcohol, can I also blame the love we shared on Alcohol? The answer is I cannot, which is why these posts seem to be manic depressant.
One the one hand I ruefully pulled away from her entrancing love and genuinely wish that were not the case but on opposing hand I know what it is like to shake, nearly to the point of paralysis, out of fear for the safety of another who occasionally lacks regards for their own well being. I am too familiar with the pain in my chest, yet I am also familiar with her entrancing presence and feelings of pure unhindered love when I can look into her eyes and see truth in her gaze.
We were two genuine people who met and shared a love which cannot be replaced. Let this love not sit on a shelf and rot, nor let us use it as shackles to imprison us.
The lesson I am learning summarizes the complex essence of human nature which squirms away from classification and moves towards simple existence.
"Life is about walking the tightrope between unfiltered passion and absolute logical thought."
Sunday, October 7, 2012
I Remember
Something...something triggered the thoughts.
Somethings triggered the memories that continue to plague my mind.
I remember when I first pulled away from you, sure that your habits were something I could not deal with.
I remember the first party you took me to.
I remember pacing outside the front door, pushing off comments of concern from others. "Whats up?" they said, "just getting some fresh air" I gleefully responded. But you know what I was doing. I was falling apart inside, falling into pits of regret and hatred as I watched you start to stumble.
I remember watching you stagger to the kitchen table and fall to the ground, narrowly missing the corner of the table with your beautiful face.
I remember everyone immediately staring at me with a expectation that I would rush to your aide.
I remember looking at you with such anger and hatred as you arose, one awkward and strained movement at a time.
I remember the car ride back to your apartment, your unconscious body swaying with the curves of the highway.
I remember getting home and looking for the keys you lost in your drunken haze.
I REMEMBER LOOKING AT YOUR PHONE AND SEEING A TEXT YOU SENT TO YOUR FRIEND, "I SPIKED MY BOYFRIENDS DRINK, AM I A BAD GIRLFRIEND?"
I remember the trust I had for you melt into the Vodka you dripped into the juice you offered me.
I remember the words you told me only a few months ago. "I knew I was the person whom you were describing, the person that you didn't want to be with but I deserved to feel good."
I remember you Jennifer, I remember you every single day.
Somethings triggered the memories that continue to plague my mind.
I remember when I first pulled away from you, sure that your habits were something I could not deal with.
I remember the first party you took me to.
I remember pacing outside the front door, pushing off comments of concern from others. "Whats up?" they said, "just getting some fresh air" I gleefully responded. But you know what I was doing. I was falling apart inside, falling into pits of regret and hatred as I watched you start to stumble.
I remember watching you stagger to the kitchen table and fall to the ground, narrowly missing the corner of the table with your beautiful face.
I remember everyone immediately staring at me with a expectation that I would rush to your aide.
I remember looking at you with such anger and hatred as you arose, one awkward and strained movement at a time.
I remember the car ride back to your apartment, your unconscious body swaying with the curves of the highway.
I remember getting home and looking for the keys you lost in your drunken haze.
I REMEMBER LOOKING AT YOUR PHONE AND SEEING A TEXT YOU SENT TO YOUR FRIEND, "I SPIKED MY BOYFRIENDS DRINK, AM I A BAD GIRLFRIEND?"
I remember the trust I had for you melt into the Vodka you dripped into the juice you offered me.
I remember the words you told me only a few months ago. "I knew I was the person whom you were describing, the person that you didn't want to be with but I deserved to feel good."
I remember you Jennifer, I remember you every single day.
Monday, October 1, 2012
The Fix I Need
Saying its a addiction is putting it lightly.
Its been almost 2 months of absolutely no communication yet when I accidentally, or intentionally, navigate to her Facebook page my heart melts and I once again lower into a pit of regret.
Maybe it will work, I tell myself, maybe this time she actually is different. Maybe she wont lie about alcohol and slowly destroy herself with this noxious substance.
All I have to do is send her a message; tell her how much I love and care for her.
STOP---I know she has not changed. How can she possibly stop relying on the substance that was destroying her life?
The reason is simple, its because it was not the substance which slowly melted into her brain, it was Jennifer who raised the bottle to her mouth.
I miss her, that much I know and I wish sometime in the future I am able to once again see her and hold her.
Life is one big amazing, confusing, and exciting experience.
Its been almost 2 months of absolutely no communication yet when I accidentally, or intentionally, navigate to her Facebook page my heart melts and I once again lower into a pit of regret.
Maybe it will work, I tell myself, maybe this time she actually is different. Maybe she wont lie about alcohol and slowly destroy herself with this noxious substance.
All I have to do is send her a message; tell her how much I love and care for her.
STOP---I know she has not changed. How can she possibly stop relying on the substance that was destroying her life?
The reason is simple, its because it was not the substance which slowly melted into her brain, it was Jennifer who raised the bottle to her mouth.
I miss her, that much I know and I wish sometime in the future I am able to once again see her and hold her.
Life is one big amazing, confusing, and exciting experience.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
My Fianl Email Response to "Her"
It has been almost two months since since I talked to the person I referred to in the last blog post. I want to stress this this is completely uncharacteristic of my previous behavior while I was in a relationship with her. I cannot even recount how many times I returned to her after I promised myself that I would leave after some drunken episode, it is almost unbelievable how many times I lied to myself and accepted her promises of recovery.
Before I enter into my draft of an email response to her, let me give some context. I have been receiving messages from her each week for about two months. These messages ranged from general inquiries about my day to crying voice mails begging for my response. They have all found their way to my heart and once again branded my heart with the mark of pain. The most recent message was received two days ago which was basically a letter of resignation. She stated that she would not contact me anymore and "I don't know why you chose to ignore me." The last line really left some painful emotions lingering in my head and heart for some time so I crafted a very visceral response to her email which I will finally release from the stale storage of my Gmail drafts folder. I do not want to persecute her anymore and I do not want to talk about addiction, alcoholism, or anything related to it so let this message both be born here and die here.
The following is my hastily drafted email response to her
"This is the second email I drafted to send you.
I was doing my best to give us both space and although it hurt both of us I thought it was best. I will tell you how I honestly feel.
I listened to you last voice mail and had a hard rest of the day. I wanted to comfort and console you. I wanted everything to be okay but part of me was also angry. I remember begging you on my hands and knees to stop getting drunk, I remember crying to you with the same intensity of emotion in the bathroom of the septa train on the way to New York to get my Visa after a conversation we had where you did not know where you were or who you were with and I remember going back to you wishing it would be better, hanging on your every word about "recovery."
I did not want to email you because I needed time to get through this. I still feel pain and think about you and this situation daily. I'm angry that the great times we've had was often punctuated by situations related to alcohol.
First, let me clear up some things. I'm not ignoring you because I have a girlfriend, nor am I ignoring you because I do not love you.
During our last conversation, I told you that I went to Tokushima and decided that we cannot be together. Let me shed some light on this. While in Tokushima, I had 12 days to think about this situation and reflect on our past and future together, what has happened and what will happen.
I reflected on one experience many times. A few months ago when I first arrived in Japan, I enjoyed my first traditional Japanese dinner with a friends family. At the house there were many people including a couple who were expecting a child. Dinner time came and we all sat on our knees on the tatami mat and everyone was given a beer glass including myself. I was hesitant but I accepted a glass of beer and did a few toasts with the family. Anyway, sitting across from me was the young couple, the man was drinking beer and his wife was drinking iced tea. For some reason that really resonated with me. I thought, "wow, he trusts her enough to know she would not even consider drinking, although everyone who was around her was drinking." After I left that night, and up until a month ago I did not think much of it but during my trip I realized that that I've made a choice to stay in a situation where I could not say the same about my trust regarding the person I love and alcohol.
I reached a breaking point during one of our last conversations. The conversation that you reveled to me that you were potentially taken advantage of. After that conversation, I was not able to eat for days, dropped 10 more pounds, and fell into a state of depression. Now, whether or not you were taken advantage of or or you voluntarily undressed yourself while you were apparently drunk and unconscious on a couch, what ever the case, it does not matter. It reached a point that made me question the future and the pattern that I saw emerging in myself.
I would base my happiness on the decisions you made and the consequences of those decisions. I do not want our relationship to revolve around alcohol, regardless of what the label is we attach to it. I do not want to ask you about your weekend, really trying to find out if you drank. I do not want you to hesitate when you talk to me because you realize that if you let "it" slip you will cause me pain. It is too much and too much has happened because of it. I realized that I cannot rescue you from yourself or your habits, no matter how much pain I feel or tears I shed, nor should I.
Its a complicated situation but I genuinely want both of us to be happy.
I love you, miss you and wish I could hold you once again. I truly wish it didn't come to this and we could live the life we wanted to.
I wish this were easier but I feel this is the only option. "
Walk into the Room
Update as of 9_25_2012: This post was originally made somewhere around January 2012.
"What are you up to" I as at 5:12pm, to which she responds "still on the computer" at 5:20pm.
Pina 3D would be a good movie I think to myself, shes a dancer. I decide to go over the house and surprise her and take her to the movies. I arrive at around 6:10 and slowly walk upstairs, so as not to give it away from the sound of the cleats on my bikes shoes, knocking the wood with every step. I open and door and turn on the light, only to see a empty bed.
Im beginning to feel it once again, it returns like a ravenous animal smelling fear; something is wrong. I stand motionless, taking in all that I can. I smell it, the aroma seeping into my nostrils; something has been burning in the room, but she doesn't smoke she told me. I walk to the left of the room, and instinctively go to the trashcan, and there it is.
A box of cigarettes, some hastily balled up tinfoil. I open the box of camels and find a small plastic bag...
Here is comes, I drop the bag in a frantic dash to do anything that will take my mind off the obvious. I cant believe it, its not true. "Why are you so fuckin stupid?" I say to myself, "Why do you do this to yourself?"
Feet steadily reaching a fast cadence as I race through the city, my fix is approaching. I feel light as I push harder on the pedals, water rising from the street and being thrown onto my back as I speed through the rain. What if I get hit, i think... Its not enough, faster, FASTER!!
ITS NOT GOOD ENOUGH, I NEED A BETTER FIX!!!!!!!
***Update 7:11 PM - Waiting for my GoPro battery to charge***
Since I did not update this post since the January 2011, the results of my "Fix" was a bike ride in a speedo bathing suit in below freezing temperatures for about 30 minutes in Center City while it began to snow. It was probably the stupidest thing I've done and literally almost resulted in Hypothermia but its all part of the learning experience. I will post a pic of it soon.
"What are you up to" I as at 5:12pm, to which she responds "still on the computer" at 5:20pm.
Pina 3D would be a good movie I think to myself, shes a dancer. I decide to go over the house and surprise her and take her to the movies. I arrive at around 6:10 and slowly walk upstairs, so as not to give it away from the sound of the cleats on my bikes shoes, knocking the wood with every step. I open and door and turn on the light, only to see a empty bed.
Im beginning to feel it once again, it returns like a ravenous animal smelling fear; something is wrong. I stand motionless, taking in all that I can. I smell it, the aroma seeping into my nostrils; something has been burning in the room, but she doesn't smoke she told me. I walk to the left of the room, and instinctively go to the trashcan, and there it is.
A box of cigarettes, some hastily balled up tinfoil. I open the box of camels and find a small plastic bag...
Here is comes, I drop the bag in a frantic dash to do anything that will take my mind off the obvious. I cant believe it, its not true. "Why are you so fuckin stupid?" I say to myself, "Why do you do this to yourself?"
Feet steadily reaching a fast cadence as I race through the city, my fix is approaching. I feel light as I push harder on the pedals, water rising from the street and being thrown onto my back as I speed through the rain. What if I get hit, i think... Its not enough, faster, FASTER!!
ITS NOT GOOD ENOUGH, I NEED A BETTER FIX!!!!!!!
***Update 7:11 PM - Waiting for my GoPro battery to charge***
Since I did not update this post since the January 2011, the results of my "Fix" was a bike ride in a speedo bathing suit in below freezing temperatures for about 30 minutes in Center City while it began to snow. It was probably the stupidest thing I've done and literally almost resulted in Hypothermia but its all part of the learning experience. I will post a pic of it soon.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
The Truth
Let me start where my last conversation ended, Rape.
Before I expose this information, let me assure that this was not done in haste. I contemplated the effects of my action and the effects of inaction. I've thought about this cancer that is now festering inside of me and the pain I feel every second. I'm not writing this for empathy, nor am i writing this for advice. I'm writing this because I know of nothing else to do. This anger and depression that now follows me every second is almost palpable. I thought about blocking this from some people to save face, yet it feels as though I'm lying to myself if I do that.
As this point I ponder three questions:
-Do I really want to tell you?
-Do you really want to know?
-How deep do you want to go?
Throughout our lives we very methodically construct our outward images for others to see. We build our resume to give us professional credibility, and we build our circle of friends to give us support and justify our beliefs. We have our personal and professional lives, which remain separate.
I've learned many years ago during my three year stay in military school, regardless of the situation you find yourself in or the barrier that you face, you perform. The collective is more important then the individual. This perspective has been slowly leaking into my mind and emerges whenever I face trauma. I internally shut down and force myself to "forge ahead" as they used to say in "The Forge" or Valley Forge Military Academy and College. This mantra is not only blindly repeated my military school cadets but is has nearly become societal dogma proliferated by our social and educational institutions in this country and abroad.
I recently taught my students the function of a common American professional greeting. I taught them to first start with a greeting like, "how are you" followed by their full name, etc. When I moved to the part of possible responses to the question "how are you," I wrote two answers on the board: I'm fine and I'm well. One of my students asked "what if I'm not fine." I was caught off guard. I leaned back in my chair and pressed my hand against my chin, starting to sarcastically smile, "well unfortunately, no-one cares if you are not doing well." I think about my response and realize that it's the truth. When someone asks you "how are you," you don't respond with, "horrible, let me tell to about it," you put on you or best face and say "great."
Well let me be painfully honest with you, I'm not fine, as a matter fact I'm feeling pretty bad and hopeless.
You probably have a image of me that was fostered by my successes, both professionally and personally. If you know me personally, you know that I am very particular with my life. I choose not to drink, smoke, do drugs, drink caffeine, and am a practicing vegetarian. Also, I do my best to be very cautious of the influences that surround me. I now have a new career teaching English in a foreign country, pursing a dream of travel and cultural immersion.
Part of the story, or at least the part that you don't know, consists of me running away from Philadelphia, running away from something I did not want to leave. Running away from the person I loved. Japan was convenient because it sounded like a great opportunity and I would be so far away that nothing which happens in the states could affect me, yet I have been found.
I've held on so tight, embracing the pain that tears through my soul like a tiger through a carcass. Shred by shred, I watch my hopes and dreams of a life I thought possible, be devoured by the beast of alcohol addiction, yet as I stand begging her to stop, I am powerless.
The irony of life is sometimes astounding. I recall, almost 6 months ago while working for a non-profit in high crime area of North Philadelphia, I witnessed something which I've just gained enough insight to understand. During one of my daily walks from Subway sandwich shop to the main office, while approaching some abandoned housing, I saw him. First a shaking hand which materialized into a shaking body that was perched upright on the front stairs of sone abandoned row housing. I started to move away when I noticed a hand clutching his chest and one wrapped tightly around his arm, this was the arm of a woman, holding him with all her might, tears of hopelessness streaming down her face. As I passed, she didn't even avert her glance as I passed within a few feet of her. "I can't imagine that" I sad to my friend who was walking with me, "I can't imagine trying to hold to something that is already lost." She was holding with such determination, she was holding on with all the life in her body.
Im angry... no I'm furious at this situation. How can this happen to her? This doesn't fit into our story. This doesn't happen to the person I'm investing my heart and soul into but the truth is someone also tore into her, only while she was unconscious, passed out drunk on a couch. I will spare you the grotesque details that plague my mind.
Cheating would of been easier to deal with, at least I could come to the realization that she intentionally destroyed my trust and gave her body to another man, but what now?
She didn't give her body to another man, yet she blacked out in a house she didn't know, with people she had never been acquainted with. I think back to the time, December 24th to be exact, yes the day before Christmas, when she called me crying and screaming my name, asking for my help. Chills shot down my spine, as I ran into the cold night air at 4am to my car. I was able to make out an address in her screams for help. It was a police station far from where she was drinking in center city Philly and when I arrived, she had no idea what happened. From that day, I told her that if she continued this behavior she will either die or get raped. Well now the only other option is death.
Part of me is angry at her for drinking to the point of blackout, to the point where someone can remove her clothes while she lay unconscious and drunk on a couch. If someone were to get her drunk with the intention of taking advantage of her or slipped something in her drink, I'm not sure how i would process that besides wanting to find that person...but she drank so much alcohol her body shut down and she did this of her own fruition.
One of my students brought up the topic of Love and asked if I had ever loved someone and I sad yes, "I actually love that person now." Progressing through the usual line of questioning, the conversation moved to, "why are you not together"? "Well," I said "that's a complicated story." She leaned in as though wanting me to divulge the details to which I hesitantly responded "it's a painful love, a very painful love." She shook her head and said "you are too young for a painful love." I only wish that were true.
So if you ask me "how are you," I will delightfully respond "fine." I will hold the facade we create for ourselves, less the seething anger and pain that festers in my heart and mind starts to ooze from my pores, then my body will have given me up.
Before I expose this information, let me assure that this was not done in haste. I contemplated the effects of my action and the effects of inaction. I've thought about this cancer that is now festering inside of me and the pain I feel every second. I'm not writing this for empathy, nor am i writing this for advice. I'm writing this because I know of nothing else to do. This anger and depression that now follows me every second is almost palpable. I thought about blocking this from some people to save face, yet it feels as though I'm lying to myself if I do that.
As this point I ponder three questions:
-Do I really want to tell you?
-Do you really want to know?
-How deep do you want to go?
Throughout our lives we very methodically construct our outward images for others to see. We build our resume to give us professional credibility, and we build our circle of friends to give us support and justify our beliefs. We have our personal and professional lives, which remain separate.
I've learned many years ago during my three year stay in military school, regardless of the situation you find yourself in or the barrier that you face, you perform. The collective is more important then the individual. This perspective has been slowly leaking into my mind and emerges whenever I face trauma. I internally shut down and force myself to "forge ahead" as they used to say in "The Forge" or Valley Forge Military Academy and College. This mantra is not only blindly repeated my military school cadets but is has nearly become societal dogma proliferated by our social and educational institutions in this country and abroad.
I recently taught my students the function of a common American professional greeting. I taught them to first start with a greeting like, "how are you" followed by their full name, etc. When I moved to the part of possible responses to the question "how are you," I wrote two answers on the board: I'm fine and I'm well. One of my students asked "what if I'm not fine." I was caught off guard. I leaned back in my chair and pressed my hand against my chin, starting to sarcastically smile, "well unfortunately, no-one cares if you are not doing well." I think about my response and realize that it's the truth. When someone asks you "how are you," you don't respond with, "horrible, let me tell to about it," you put on you or best face and say "great."
Well let me be painfully honest with you, I'm not fine, as a matter fact I'm feeling pretty bad and hopeless.
You probably have a image of me that was fostered by my successes, both professionally and personally. If you know me personally, you know that I am very particular with my life. I choose not to drink, smoke, do drugs, drink caffeine, and am a practicing vegetarian. Also, I do my best to be very cautious of the influences that surround me. I now have a new career teaching English in a foreign country, pursing a dream of travel and cultural immersion.
Part of the story, or at least the part that you don't know, consists of me running away from Philadelphia, running away from something I did not want to leave. Running away from the person I loved. Japan was convenient because it sounded like a great opportunity and I would be so far away that nothing which happens in the states could affect me, yet I have been found.
I've held on so tight, embracing the pain that tears through my soul like a tiger through a carcass. Shred by shred, I watch my hopes and dreams of a life I thought possible, be devoured by the beast of alcohol addiction, yet as I stand begging her to stop, I am powerless.
The irony of life is sometimes astounding. I recall, almost 6 months ago while working for a non-profit in high crime area of North Philadelphia, I witnessed something which I've just gained enough insight to understand. During one of my daily walks from Subway sandwich shop to the main office, while approaching some abandoned housing, I saw him. First a shaking hand which materialized into a shaking body that was perched upright on the front stairs of sone abandoned row housing. I started to move away when I noticed a hand clutching his chest and one wrapped tightly around his arm, this was the arm of a woman, holding him with all her might, tears of hopelessness streaming down her face. As I passed, she didn't even avert her glance as I passed within a few feet of her. "I can't imagine that" I sad to my friend who was walking with me, "I can't imagine trying to hold to something that is already lost." She was holding with such determination, she was holding on with all the life in her body.
Im angry... no I'm furious at this situation. How can this happen to her? This doesn't fit into our story. This doesn't happen to the person I'm investing my heart and soul into but the truth is someone also tore into her, only while she was unconscious, passed out drunk on a couch. I will spare you the grotesque details that plague my mind.
Cheating would of been easier to deal with, at least I could come to the realization that she intentionally destroyed my trust and gave her body to another man, but what now?
She didn't give her body to another man, yet she blacked out in a house she didn't know, with people she had never been acquainted with. I think back to the time, December 24th to be exact, yes the day before Christmas, when she called me crying and screaming my name, asking for my help. Chills shot down my spine, as I ran into the cold night air at 4am to my car. I was able to make out an address in her screams for help. It was a police station far from where she was drinking in center city Philly and when I arrived, she had no idea what happened. From that day, I told her that if she continued this behavior she will either die or get raped. Well now the only other option is death.
Part of me is angry at her for drinking to the point of blackout, to the point where someone can remove her clothes while she lay unconscious and drunk on a couch. If someone were to get her drunk with the intention of taking advantage of her or slipped something in her drink, I'm not sure how i would process that besides wanting to find that person...but she drank so much alcohol her body shut down and she did this of her own fruition.
One of my students brought up the topic of Love and asked if I had ever loved someone and I sad yes, "I actually love that person now." Progressing through the usual line of questioning, the conversation moved to, "why are you not together"? "Well," I said "that's a complicated story." She leaned in as though wanting me to divulge the details to which I hesitantly responded "it's a painful love, a very painful love." She shook her head and said "you are too young for a painful love." I only wish that were true.
So if you ask me "how are you," I will delightfully respond "fine." I will hold the facade we create for ourselves, less the seething anger and pain that festers in my heart and mind starts to ooze from my pores, then my body will have given me up.
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