My Dear,
There is stuff that I can no longer talk to you about, which I now have to hide.
I cannot even think about it in English - I dare not think about it in any language that we share. I've been dreaming a lot in Dutch again these days. You would be the only person with whom I could share these things, but because the relationship between us has changed, you are also the one person to whom I cannot open up about them.
There is much that I cannot tell you, and that I certainly cannot tell anyone else. But I no longer have the right to talk to you about these matters, or even refer to them.
It would be neither proper nor gallant of me to speak of such things.
Also, you might think that I was being selfish or silly, melodramatic or manipulative. In a way that would probably (certainly!) be correct. I do want to be selfish, and I indeed have ulterior motives!
But I don’t want you to distrust my feelings or discount my reasons for speaking.
It isn't safe to discuss these things with you, and if I did, my words would no longer have much weight. Forgive me if I tend towards silence.
I'm trying to maintain as even keel as much as possible so as to not make it any worse for you.
If I fail occasionally it will be because this isn't the easiest thing for me to do, nor is it something that I ever prepared for. How could I?
Your friendship is still infinitely precious to me. What resilience I have, I have because of you.
I just need time.
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Despite the pervasive gloom in Democratic circles, and the giddy intoxicated optimism in the Republican, neo-Nazi, Fascist, and Authoritaria...
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I'm surprised that separate living arrangements we not made as soon as possible or in advance. From this outsider's perspective, it seems to be fraught with peril.
Well, it probably seems fraught because it IS fraught.
I do not want her to go - I enjoy her presence and love having her still live with me. But her presence also makes me want to leave the house for a while, because she makes some emotions come that I really cannot handle very well.
We'll get over this. As roommates and friends. We have to.
I keep thinking as long as you are still living together that there is hope for reconsiliation.
Then I remember Nietzsche "Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torment of man." ...
I wish there was something we could do or say that would help, or would make a difference.
But no... I find I'm just wringing my hands, feeling absolutely impotent and unable to offer anything... advice, comfort, illicit substances....
We love you and respect you and we are here for you in what ever way you need. You just have to ask.
What can I say? It turns out I may have a masochistic streak a mile wide.
Although, now that I think about it, there IS something disturbingly masturbatory about self-torture......
Should i be worried about this?
No, Telmac. Only short smart High School girls should be worried about this
That is the comment that rocks.
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