It's amazing how much mature wisdom resembles being too tired.

[kiya]

And this is our time . . . until it passes.


So life continues, as matter does not disappear. . . .

The day before I left to come out here, teinedreugan asked me how I was doing in my state of intermittent angst. I don't quite remember how I answered: I do remember that he said that it seemed like I was doing better, and I mentioned that there were a couple of possibly combined factors there -- maybe things are better, maybe I'm getting acclimated, and maybe I'm just too tired. I know I'm too tired to tell.

There's a thread on a mailing list I read that is, in part, discussing relationship failure modes. And one person pointed out that sometimes, someone just doesn't compromise, and that's why things end in a relationship. To which someone else seemed to reply that that shows it wasn't really love after all, just lust or infatuation.

If I weren't too tired, I'd display outrage. (Fortunately, I can borrow oneironaut's outrage when I have a shortage.) Twoo wuv does not conquer all. Dealing with some things takes skill, takes time, takes resources, and twoo wuv does not create skill, time, or resources. The lack of skill, time, or resources is not a failure of the emotion, it's . . . just life, sometimes.

Memories -- and aftermath . . . .

It's too close to home. I've ricocheted off that failure mode a lot in the past year, the failure mode that means that there's no space to compromise left, the place where it hurts too much to keep trying, where it feels that the risk of trying one more thing means the risk of falling on one's face and the cliff-edge is in some sort of Heisenbergish state of dubious locatability.

Yeah, sometimes that place exists because someone's being a fuckwit.

And sometimes it exists because people are tricky. And trying, in good faith, to bend in ways that they aren't good at -- or aren't capable of bending in the first place. It doesn't always work, no matter how much the players involved might want it to.

I have hope that in my case it might work, through some combination of luck, bloodymindedness, devotion, and effort. I still spent some timeless unknown amount of space last night howling out the pain.

And being held, this time. And being held.

Dreams are not lost, they merely fall beneath the ashes. . . .

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[suzanne.livejournal.com]

*holds*

suzi