Intimacy and the lack thereof…
Intimacy.
Can I live without it?
Do I have a fucking choice? No.
So the answer to the first question is: Deal with it, honey. Face the fact that your happinesses, your successes, your small baby steps and especially your big gigantic leaps, will be flatlined. There will be no happy response, no kudos. Fishing only makes it worse. What will happen when my friend moves out and I have no one to come home to to share these things, to get at least a modicum of appropriate responses?
But there is no one else. Not yet. I need another friend. Please. After my closest one chose a mean way to abandon me years ago, I am left bereft, with not a prospect in site.
And where shall I find such a friend? In a doctor’s office? At a goddamn support group for us gimps once a month so that we can share our medical woes?
At least the latter is a possibility; these people will understand me and I them. I just need to watch out for energy leeches and look for someone with some sense of self-awareness. Sigh, so hard to get out, though.
But back to happiness! Such happiness, such joy today. Two children, two conversations, one a catharsis of sorts, an acceptance of flaws, closure, truth.
The other casual, with some serious truth mixed in. An friendly exchange of information; although I hope I was selfless enough.
I cannot let his apathy, his withholding, ruin the bliss. I will let it wash over me tonight. Regardless of anyone’s reaction, I will continue to have my own reaction, my own joy.
I will not let his lack of intimacy tarnish my feelings of intense intimacy. That is me. I have been him for far too long…