Marijuana Revelation About BU

[SycamoreCircle]

Someone gave me an edible. Hadn't had any weed in a long time. Several hours later slipped into this deep reverie about my ex and the painful break up. So many questions make sense now. I started to write. Forgive its indulgences and shifting persons. Here's what I came up with:

 

Was H. a complete fraud? More money seeking than I thought?

 

We all have a rotting proof about ourselves.

 

Everything is a lot more cruel than you think it is. She considered the world in much sharper terms. She needed gouges, gouging surfaces. She needed gouging love. You were soft and warmer than anything she’d ever been close to. She changed because she turned herself into something for you. She was not so many of the traits that I valued her for. Her family enjoys a lot of affectation. He was so naked to her. So vulnerable, soft, blue and pure. She was ahead of you thinking more jaggedly and unforgivingly than you.

 

You could never understand my point of view. She was shocked that you saw so much.[when I snooped her correspondence with her lover, mother and friends] So much of what she really is. But that was one of your allures---you could see through much of the bulls--t.

 

 

She thought in fairy tale terms. She was stern with herself.[like her mother had been with her, growing up] She held herself. When she ate she held herself. In an etiquette. She called you animal. You were wild, free, hairy, animalistic, round. But here comes a dark mysterious buzzard.[the OM] Long sideways eyes, giant wingspan, different animal energy. Warm strong lion to arched buzzard. Couldn’t be lovey with something like that…cold, lifeless, serial killer fµck. Bone. Hard. Foreign. She actually remembers me as her best lover.[despite her saying otherwise]

 

 

Some of these assertions seem conspiratorial. That her family strove for a power? They entertained…hosted things, banquets, galas.[she had made them out to be things I admired---eccentric, anti-establishment, products of the 70's] They enjoyed celebrity. Here came this guy who was very brave, who charmed her, who embodied all these ideas and principles. I became these things. Frugal, political, intellectual, underground. In truth, she aspired to celebrity, gatherings, salon secrets, society. What they ordain as the way, remains. If it’s cleaning dead animals[her recent uptake of taxidermy], it’s of interest. Sycamore was about poverty and rejection. [Name of oil painting she made of me] because you truly live a pathetic life. Says she, you don’t have the assets I aspire to, the recognition I aspire to. [Name of painting] in my poverty. An artist in poverty, without pretence. But, says she, I want to follow trends and be recognized by others. Well darling, Mommy says, the way to gain admirers is to pretend to admire the successful. Your web will gather in those around you. [Title of a post BU painting depicting herself with snakes and occult symbols] because like a witch I’m hatching a plan. Mystical. Charms into the sea. Bleeding hearts. I killed the Prince. The folklore of The Bleeding Hearts. My heart, she says, is wounded but I push on. Valiant, brave, destroyer of hearts…

 

She bought those floral essences because she thought you would like how they smelled.[We bathed together in these essences and she tinted her coconut oil with them] Remember she wore men’s speed stick: angular, hard, teeth. The flower prints on her dresses---the leftovers of apparel for F. Scott Fitzgerald.[a fitting description of her previous, serious love---a real yuppie] She was uptight. She couldn’t sleep.

 

They[she and the OM, Mr. Buzzard] had met before and he made it clear who he is. The guy who fµcks your girlfriend to get her out of emotional binds. That guy. It was an experience but it wasn’t like being with Sycamore. Sycamore was warm. Says she, I must be hard, stay hard or else I’ll think about him. Why can’t I be with him? Because we’re different. I can’t relax and be like the way he is. Relaxed for me is to put up with hardness, to feel hardness. To be in a capsule of futurism.

 

We can’t experience things the same way, she said.

[BrokenDragon]

I'm usually just a lurker on here, but your post resonated with me and I'd thought I'd post something.

 

I don't usually partake in the Mary J., but from time to time after my breakup it would happen. Each time, I saw the breakup in a different light and could empathize with her point of view. Kinda feel how she felt about the relationship, what went wrong, and we shared the same experience, but "experienced" it in a different way. Sometimes I'd cry thinking how easy to would be to fix, now that I can feel the pain the relationship was inflicting on us in the same way.

 

Then I'd wake up the next morning and an ocean of cold, hard reality would rush in. Whatever pain that was experienced was due to the eternal conflict of an emotional/physical affair... It was always a good reminder of why I quit smoking pot.

 

I think your experience is good, helps with the healing process. But take it for what it is and don't allow it to become an escape from reality.

[SycamoreCircle]

Thanks for that, BrokenDragon. Yes, I totally imagined things from her side and it was...freeing.

 

I think the main revelation I made was that she was not entirely herself with me. She was so freaking young...24! She's still "making" herself. I know that doesn't justify what she did, but it explains it.

 

I know that I have to move on. I have to let go. It will take more time. Much more time.

 

I hope that one day I can love, again.

 

As always, everything in moderation...