no, you belong with us

I must have known you were writing, as I woke in agitation nights ago with the urge to check the site. I wondered in my half-awake state if you had found another Narcissus to whom to write. Some lyrics to a recent song I admire go: I should have told you this world is not my own. Because this is more of the truth, probably, than you wish to know. You have been walking among the dead for a long time, before even you lost your father, and that is because some people just enter this world oddly afflicted with straddling dimensions, and they strive to fit in, to be normal, to appear like everyone else. Drugs help. I think you were straddling the half living from the beginning, being blessed with some innate sense that this was not all there was to this world, and so perhaps that is why the ones you love are the disappeared--not because you made them disappear, but possibly because life's infinite mystery knew you to be capable of loving beyond living, of seeing love beyond flesh.

You come to me in my dreams, you sneak in to everyone's, and you will love and feel half here and half there because parts of you are owned by legitimate lovers who are not seen. And you will question when he is not near because that is what we do. I do it every day, and even today, as I held my beautiful man in my arms we drifted so far away in our minds from one another...I came back first and asked, what are you thinking. He said, about the car insurance. He felt bad until I told him I was imagining the technique one employs for layering hair. All the while, right there. If we can be in one another's arms and far away, in one another's dreams, and miles apart, why can't love weave in and out of the living and the dead.

You don't have to know the answers. They are known, somewhere, but we will never be able to interpret the language they are written in. My new proverb: don't ask, sing. don't answer, dance.

Walk among us

My Dearest Friend,
I have little doubt that you will read this, as we have seemed to have abandoned this "project" long ago. I have talked to you frequently, as you know, in my dreams, but in waking life I have been ghostly.
Yes, there is someone new in my life. And each hour that I do not talk to him I spend talking myself out of him. It has made me realize that I have become the ghost in life since Eric died. I am the one who hides in the shadows and stays at arms length from anyone I could possibly touch or touch me.
I took this as a sense of pride really. I concentrate on a few close loved ones and the rest are superfluous. As long as I do not need anyone in my life, I am safe. I am invisible.
And now. And now. Now I am being tested and it angers me. I am not sure if what I feel is even real. Maybe I just want to feel again so I am letting him in. I do not know.
My safety net has holes in it, my logic has flaws, and I feel as if I am in between the living and the dead.
So many of the people I have loved are gone. And I just want to be a ghost with them. There is no room in my living life because I carry and walk with the dead. But they are the cherished ones. I am reluctant to let them go. I am afraid. I will be alone if I let them go. Or I will open myself up to heartache again.
A friend praised me recently for being open to love again. I took the compliment, odd as it was. I love the intangible, that has never stopped for me. But I have not permitted myself to love another person.
it is easy to feign light heartedness and folly. That makes people feel like everything is okay. They do not need to worry about you, and thus, I am left alone with the dead, where I prefer to be.
Do I love this new man, or do I love the idea of loving again?
I am having a hard time moving my feet off this proverbial bridge and just jumping. The last time I jumped, the ride was glorious and the fall more painful then I ever knew.
yours,
G.