I love all the things you love, why won't you love me? Gosh it is so fucking hard. I love you so fucking much and it is not going to work, it is not healthy, it is chemically not right also, because you are not actually gay. Seriously, I chuckle at this point. Futility and hurt. Jeanette you are so smart and intuitive and bright and creative and beautiful and I love all the things you love. And I love you.
You are so pretty. You are the woman that is awesome and is creating her own path and her own healing, I just love you. And I get so jealous of you. I must be projecting myself onto you, which is why we should not be in a romantic relationship. We are tooooooooooooooooooooooo close to each other. We project and triangulate and trigger each other into oblivion. And we both work SO HARD not to do that to each other. I respect us. We try really hard. But I guess... it's become self evident that I can't be in your orbit right now. I seem to spontaneously combust. Which I wish I didn't do, I don't want to do it, but it keeps happening so I have to heed the signs and stay away. And it hurts me. Because I really actually in a completely non-exploitative way care about you. And I would like to be there to support you, and I am not, because my path is a swirly mess of dissociation and DXM.
But I swear to you, Jeanette. I love you. And what the hell does that mean, right? It means, that right now and for the forseeable future and I think for my lifetime, I care about how you make out. I fervently wish for your success in happiness and individuation and learning and growth and whatever other Jungian stuff I don't remember. I want you to be happy, and I will do acts towards assuring that happiness. In other words, I got your back.
So I have no idea if I am writing this to put on the blog or to send to you, but here it is. You fucking rock. I fucking rock. Every person who has gone through this hell and made it fucking rocks. And I am going to make it. And you are going to make it. And we are both gonna rock, but maybe not together at this exact moment. I love you. I love me. OK. Enough. :)
You are so pretty. You are the woman that is awesome and is creating her own path and her own healing, I just love you. And I get so jealous of you. I must be projecting myself onto you, which is why we should not be in a romantic relationship. We are tooooooooooooooooooooooo close to each other. We project and triangulate and trigger each other into oblivion. And we both work SO HARD not to do that to each other. I respect us. We try really hard. But I guess... it's become self evident that I can't be in your orbit right now. I seem to spontaneously combust. Which I wish I didn't do, I don't want to do it, but it keeps happening so I have to heed the signs and stay away. And it hurts me. Because I really actually in a completely non-exploitative way care about you. And I would like to be there to support you, and I am not, because my path is a swirly mess of dissociation and DXM.
But I swear to you, Jeanette. I love you. And what the hell does that mean, right? It means, that right now and for the forseeable future and I think for my lifetime, I care about how you make out. I fervently wish for your success in happiness and individuation and learning and growth and whatever other Jungian stuff I don't remember. I want you to be happy, and I will do acts towards assuring that happiness. In other words, I got your back.
So I have no idea if I am writing this to put on the blog or to send to you, but here it is. You fucking rock. I fucking rock. Every person who has gone through this hell and made it fucking rocks. And I am going to make it. And you are going to make it. And we are both gonna rock, but maybe not together at this exact moment. I love you. I love me. OK. Enough. :)
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