Okay, decision made.

I shall simply stop. No more emails, no more calls. If he emails me or calls me, I will cheerfully respond, but I will not initiate. I will send hm the copy of my novel that he asked for, and then that’s it. If space is what he needs, he can have it. No anger, no guilt trips, no bullshit. No breaking up, either. When winter comes and it’s time for my visit, I’m going. I love him, and I miss him. But I have spent most of my life being understanding and putting myself second. I’m done. I need someone to be close to.

Drift again

She is indeed his confidante. How totally random is that? And she’s completely trustworthy. So it’s all good.

What’s better is that I got to deal with the fear, coming to the Oh Well stage all on my own: Oh well, whatever he said, it can’t really hurt me, and if he really is a jerk, I never have to speak to him again. But it’s nice to know the guy is okay after all.

Drift: There is another possibility…

And that is this: I told one person what I did–someone I knew could keep their mouth shut, who lives far away, and was not going to judge me. Maybe the friend who FBed me was his one person. Because frankly, if he is involved with someone, he’d have to be an idiot to go around advertising the fact that he got this proposition. So I will sit tight until I hear from her again and sort this out.

When things crush me from the inside

When things crush me from the inside, bursting to get out,

It is as though I am the cocoon, that something else lives within. It

Struggles, twists and kicks its way free,

Free of me, of all the rules I have set down for my own existence, all the things I must not think or say or do.  This

New Thing comes through my mouth and cunt and nostrils, slips my fingers on

Like gloves, and taps out words on my keyboard.

I am afraid, because I am so comfortable in my discomfort, my squalid surroundings, my

Dark, dingy, cramped existence, the

Artist’s garret of my mind, where I tell myself how hard it is to get ahead and

Forgive myself for failure, failure

That is comfortable and easy and doesn’t ask me to work too hard, or feel too much, or take too

Many risks.

Well, I tried. I tried.

But I did not try. I did not try. I gave a half-

Hearted little effort, a token gesture that

Fell short.

So short.

But I could say I tried. I just wasn’t good enough, smart enough, beautiful enough, talented, disciplined, prepared enough to

Succeed. To dazzle.

But I am. Only I don’t.

Because no one else has shown me the way to succeed, to be happy, to accomplish great things. so

I must hack this path out of the underbrush all by



Instead I wrap myself in this cloak of failure, comfort myself with my inadequacies, and rock myself to