The album playing now is Tool's 10, 000 days, or as I like to call it, the aphrodisiac album.
You believe me don't you
Please believe what I just said
See they're telling the truth
And this wasn't all in my head
See they took me by the hand
And invited me right in
Then they showed me something
I don't even know where to begin
It doesn't give me nightmares, the music. What it does is make me mad, in a way. In turn that gives me back the control I desire so ferverently. I feel like I can bat my eyelashes and slay a thousand demons with my charms when I get mad. Some of the only power I have ever felt in my life. Figures it would be based on sex. Self-vilified by my own perceptions of myself. Is there not any other way I can feel confident? No, I just turn it up so I don't fall apart. I feel the strongest when his desire for me is conspicuous.
Enlightening. Hard to explain. Fuck, Bridget is hard to explain. You have no idea.
Pushing. Shoving. Fighting. It hardly breaks for the moments of overwhelming comfort and you know what? Some days aren't so fucking good and I don't feel like I'm going to get through it at all. Some days I don't feel like we're going to make it. There. Out loud and everything. To him. Knowing he wouldn't want to hear those words because they're pessimistic.
He didn't want to hear it. Me, shoving at his heart and testing the limits. He has no limits.
But the simple solution of me being committed and him going off to find a nice normal girl, well we tried that route already and it didn't even work at all. All it did was delay the inevitable. Which was the certainty that we would be together. Someday.
Someday is now and the price is so goddamned high from Cole's...brainwashing. We're not having any luck at all with the intensity. It's staggering. I only have to open my eyes and see him first and my heart is in my throat. The nerves, butterflies, the anticipation will knock you flat. It hurts. It hurts like trying not to hyperventilate.
We both still feel like we're doing something so wrong here. Something verboten. Every time I touch him I can't take ownership. Inside my head I'm trying to justify it. Still.
How dumb. Because failure is not an option. I will. not. fail. Jacob.
Overwhelmed as one would be placed in my position
Such a heavy burden now to be the one
Born to bear and read to all the details of our ending
To write it down for all the world to see
But I forgot my pen
And as much as everyone waits for more admissions, further confessions from me, there aren't any. The night of the hayride constitutes the one time we lost control. That's it. Which is remarkable and I am fucking proud of that fact because no one, well okay everyone knows how often Jacob and I were alone together. We could have carried on the longest most intense affair of all time but it wasn't right to do so, and we are good people, in spite of our debiliatating flaws. Such damned good people, except when it comes to wanting each other. Oh my dear God, when it comes to each other we're a fucking trainwreck. Careening down a mountain pass with no brakes because. we. can.
We are.
And it shouldn't be so hard anymore but the temptation to continue at arms' length is so prevalent. Like snatching your hand back out of the fire so that you don't get burned. Only the fire, well, it's been out for ages. There's no danger anymore.
Bridget, enough with the analogies. Why can't you just write what you want to say?
WHY WHY WHY?
It's reverse-homesickness. Fucked-up. Bridget, you're SCREWED, girl. I'm so terribly sorry but I'm in a hurry to find out how it feels to be happily in love without twenty years of Cole's twisted definition of what a relationship should be hanging over my head. I want it undone. Faster. Now. I have no patience. I waited long enough and now it's my turn to express disappointment with having to wait for the gratification. For the simple profound love that Jacob offers me.
When I take it it's not mine. I have no ownership of this and I don't get it.
Hell, I can't even explain it.
I want the fluttering to stop.
I want to see him and be happy. Not see him and for a heartbreaking 10 seconds a million thoughts go through my head, starting with "Where is Cole?" and "Why am I not with this man?" and by the time I reconcile the past inside my head the moment is gone.
Lobotomy for one, please.
And he lies when he says he feels relief and overwhelming euphoria when he sees me. He lies because the first thing that he thinks is usually a wonderment of how fragile Miss Bridget is going to be today, or 10 seconds to reconcile that this is not a dream.
And so I bring out the demons. Put on the most angry music. Play it loud. Get out the acrimony and hold steady with a smoldering atttitude that is a total put-on. Give myself the only control I know I have, because some is better than nothing at all, in my eyes. At least I know how that works.
Because some days aren't great. But it's normal. No worries. It's getting better. Getting it out helps. Good girl. Good job Bridget! Yes, please, everyone pat me on the head for dragging out every last dreadful thought out of my head and terrifying myself with the endless parade of nightmarish outcomes from this. And foolishly Jacob promised me that he isn't leaving and he was so angry because he hates repeating himself even though he'll do it as many times as I need him to without showing an ounce of the frustration he must feel.
I would love it if he could share that patience with me, it's the patience that he has for my fear that he doesn't even have for anything else. How many times can you tell someone who has barely a idea of what sanctuary feels like that they have it at last. They can't see it but they feel it sometimes but they don't believe it's real, they're in perpetual shock and it's going to take time. Well, you do it when you love them, of course.
I will not fail him. Even on days like today when the optimism is an excruciating reach for me, I will not fail him. Because I love him.
Of course.
