Monday, August 21, 2006


Can I sum up what I feel this morning by this word? I am fed up of staying indoors, I am fed up of the limbo of my parents' house,even though I undergo important things here. I do what I had wanted to do when I came back: read and write, and not just hit the beach or socialize.

I am calling my friend who's had her 2nd baby (& is younger than me), and am on call waiting. I might have no choice but to meet my friend A. before he takes off to Barcelona, if only b/c my mum won't have me leaving her glass thingy I used to make cheesecake at his place. Yes, ultimately it's only reality that drags you back to reality.

This morning, as the usual procession of neurosis and things raced through my mind, the fact that P. is coming back to his parents' house and we are supposed to have our first conversation (via skype) in little over a week was not one of the "top ten". No, I was continuing the arguments I drafted in response to a new penpal (coming soon).

Part of me is just furious that he took so long to email me, and then left without checking my reply (b/c he didn't give me enough time to reply); and didn't reply my text right away and then left my second text completely unreplied.

The other parts says: Are you out of your mind?! You have HIV. You are a fallen woman. And you go on about something like this?! So the guy doesn't always respond in the way that you want, when you want... will someone ever? You should be more than happy to get what you're getting.

But then the first part cries: it's exactly because I have HIV that I want him to take me seriously, and not F with me and not waste my time! He should know how vulnerable I am, and if he cared enough, he would have emailed me sooner just to ask how I am (he didn't even check my emails, it's not that I wrote him and he could see I was OK and just didn't respond), and too exchange numbers and skype usernames like we said, and not leave it for 4 whole days, and then expect a reply in the middle of the night, and then take off quite early the next day. He should have known that I don't have time to reply, so why did he write me so late (his second email "why don't you write me bastarda", came as I was composing the reply to the first one, which arrived in the small hours). So when I listen to this part, I don't want to be available on skype today, when he doesn't even reply my last text and tells me when he expects to be back and when he wants to talk, and leaves everything to chance and laziness.

Then the 1st part responds: But that's the way he is, and not just with you, and if he was a manipulative control freak [like you, the first part dares to whisper], he wouldn't be shagging a poz in the first place, and he would be planning his life more.

The other part is still mad, that in his long email he hardly asked about me [I asked him about him in my last unreplied text], and just went on about the "is this love" topic, telling me exactly how much he thinks of me, quantifying it, and it's as though he is constantly debating whether he loves me or not. And I remeber the Hebrew saying "where there is doubt, there is no doubt", meaning if someone always questions what love means and whether or not they feel it, then they don't...

The other part says: yes, but who cares? and you don't think about him every minute either. Even sitting bored in your parents' house, you still don't think about him all the time, so why this anxiety and preoccupation and need to control. And if he said that he was madly, hopelessly in love with you, wouldn't that be liable to change?

So between these nagging, arguing voices, I feel depressed. Even writing them down doesn't release me. The only thing I can do is write about other stuff.

Ahhh who am I kidding? I am tense and nervous. I don't even know what time he came home and when he intends to skype me. I don't want to be the first to try to make contact with him. But we are too far apart geographically for these games. I am scared of feeling rejection, and feel a need for reassurance. I just want to cry... it's been a long week. I have gone deep in myself, bared my soul to strangers via the internet (strangers who became understanding and accepting even if they started off as judgemental, says the reasonable voice; and you don't have to justify yourself to anyone. You don't have to justify and explain how you became infected, and make an effort to prove that it can happen to anyone, and blah blah blah. All you have to do is be, like P., who shows you that option, and that's why you love him {apart from the needy, save-me-please angle}

I will post here what I scribbled in bed this morning:

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