Catharsis Comes From Letting Go.

I have a right to repression. If I believe what I feel inside isn't true, if I can doubt myself to the point of becoming a separate embodiment to my own anxiety then surely I can stay with you one more night. It's hard to make the right judgement, but the distinction has already become too blurred to conclude what is right for myself. I don't want to let go. So I won't. They say catharsis comes from letting go, that I'll be happier freed from my mental prison. Yet I've found catharsis from unusual places; too strange to assume I could locate it somewhere normal. Seeing suffering can be cathartic. It reminds you that you aren't the only one. Just as loving you can bring cathexis. And that is why I'm on the fence. You may have imprisoned me, but I chose to be locked in.


1. Goodbye comes without goodness.

I know you're supposed to be able to vividly revisit the time you first met your other. As if it circulated around your memory like a reel of film, allowing you to relive the precious endearing moment in stunning clarity. Again, an idealistic premise I also couldn't account for. I didn't even look up at his face. All of it just felt too soon. Too intense. I didn't want to fall in. 


I keep getting scared. I keep listening to myself too much. It would be fine if I believed in what I was saying to myself, but the words I would hear bore no relation to how I just knew I felt. I love Jamie. I've known that for a long time. I've also known that I could never ever find someone else like him, and that truly would be an awful thing to have to do. He is my one and only. These thoughts present some sort of optimism for myself, though they are overshadowed by a guilty conscience that scolds itself for even acknowledging another man is in the room. Some people wish their mind could wander. People who are struggling to be creative; they want their mind to expand, they want it to dance across realms, walk past ideas of realism and break through reality into something more abstract, to enrich their own mentality. They want to be able to astound with every word they write, every stroke they paint. My mind can wander just like that, and I would be grateful if it weren't for the fact my mind chose to wander into realms of self-doubt, agonising paranoia and ideas of cheating. Of going against everything I believe in simply because I don't believe in it. I struggle to be philosophical with anything else other than my relationship with him. It's opened hallways of doors in my head, yet many of the rooms these doors lead to are occupied by bodies of distrust, sadness, jealousy and guilt. Guilt for something I haven't done, actions that I have no wish to commit but play in my head as if they are forecast. 

I love you, Jamie. Even if I have to tell it to myself to be truly sure.

But my mind will continue to flirt with these negative ideals. I cannot restrain it as it skips merrily onto stepping stones that push against my morality and self-belief. My mind isn't my own, so why should I be claiming ownership of something I wish I did not have. My mind is against me. It does not follow what I really believe. I will never stop getting scared, just as I will never stop trying to love you. If love is such an easy thing to do, if I can project it onto material things, friends, family, why do I struggle with projecting it onto you? When I know it is there? It seems as though any simple-minded person would just leave you. But I choose you over the thoughts. I'll go on living the rest of my life weighed down with a thousand defeatist convictions, drowning in pessimism and choking on cynicism if it means I can be in love with you. I won't ever say goodbye. There is no goodness in goodbye.


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