Jesse's Zen

"I have nothing to say that hasn't already been said. I'm sorry for everything and any pain that I've caused you,"

Eh?  You didn't say anything!  Maybe that's just the way it is, you know, all's fair in love and war.  But, honey, I thought you liked me.  I sure liked you.

I can't say when it ended or why.  From your message, maybe you mean to say that you could.  It was 1 year, 10 months, and 12 days (but who's counting) since the night you confessed "honestly I think about you all the time" until the day you told me in tears, “Ki, we have to talk.”.  I’ve been alone now all this time, trying to get used to this new reality, so like the old reality I was oh so happy to leave behind, but  I’m used to this, baby.  You know I’m used to being alone.  And if you didn’t want me anymore, I totally get it, but is it wrong to ask what happened?  Did you finally see what everyone else was talking about – how ‘wrong’ we were?  Did you maybe notice that I was over 50 and unattractive, or perhaps the wrong sex for you?  Were you just burned out on justifying us? Turned off by me?  Listened to your friends, your parents or your better sense?  Did I suddenly sound uninteresting?  You came 3000 miles for God’s sake.  Just to tell me it’s over?  How can I reconcile that? 

You said at the beginning that you didn’t want to hurt me.  You said it again at the end.  Did you know that you would?  Was I some kind of experiment in mercy?  All the beautiful sentiments that gave me hope – your email that made me cry.  I had finally found someone who understood me and loved me despite it all – or I thought I had. 

 “In this world, rife with divorce and anger and misery, I am expected to let go of my love in search of something better. Because I am young and smart and pretty, at least according to some, because all of his wonderful, precious qualities are not enough to redeem him of what nature did. I should release him and find someone that fits the right criteria, not my own which has already been matched, but that of faceless strangers.

Maybe you know I can’t tell a lie.  I have been told that I’m well rid of you, that your emotional problems were too heavy for even me to forge through.  Maybe I shouldn’t read your stories, so full of misunderstood motivations and pent up emotions.  Was I fuel for the perfection of your angst fiction?  You were kind of young for a commitment, anyway, you know.  I don’t expect anything to change.   I’ve got a little pride, too, though you might be hard pressed to find it here.  It’s just about a word of explanation, that’s all.   Was the gender illusion the thing that killed it?  The blood pressure cuff?  The gray hair?  You wouldn’t believe the mental gymnastics this lonely mind is capable of. 

 Maybe we can’t be friends but we can be civilized.  Can’t we?


crossposted to: http://ki-realface-livejournal.tumblr.com