eros, logos: Revelations

Saturday, June 03, 2006

Revelations

Repost: Oct 5, 2005

I am in transit, I have been in flight again, I am back in another city, I arrived early this morning with sunrise. I could not sleep on the plane, and I cannot sleep now; the pendulum on my body's clock has been as if suspended over an ocean and between continents, and for some time. In a few days I will see my boyfriend. My heart: That story, here, now. Time.

My boyfriend is a a brilliant, witty, kind, hyper-educated, hyper-articulate, frighteningly well-travelled-- (some 24? more- countries)-- deeply unhappy, clinically depressed English alcoholic.

Being English and being alcoholic are not in fact the same state, by the way, although these states may often look indistinguishable to Americans.
They are distinguishable. He is an alcoholic, alhough this was not the case when we first met.

His depression has left him incapable of his work, the work that is also mine, because he has been rendered incapable of the sustained thought required for writing. He cannot write, he can only think now in speech, and that only with me.

And yet he still reads everything I read, everything I write professionally and everything I read or am thinking about anywhere, every subject that suddenly takes my interest, that I feel the need to explore. I want to keep up with you, he says, and he does, yet it wrenches my heart; he should be producing his own work and can no longer. I've learnt more from you about (X) he tells me, than I did at [university, deleted], and this is true for me too, that he was and is brilliant, and I've found more intellectual fulfillment in talking with him of our work than with anyone, as I have in speaking with him of anything at all...we worked so well together, he was so promising, he should be excelling, and he did, until the depression came.

Depression, devouring, eating everything, taking away what he is, what he could be….what he was, when first we met, and first loved each other. It has taken him over, in these years we have loved each other so passionately, that black dog. Bite by bite, it has taken everything from him, his work, friends, the ability to work at anything at all. The ability to sleep, to eat, it has taken everything, everything, and it also has taken me from him, now, at last. I tried, god how I tried, for how long! I can no longer.

It has taken away sex, rendered what was once all-consuming and whole for us a damaged thing; it reduces desire, the medication damages the ability; the alcohol meanwhile ensures that the medication does not, cannot, make him better.

(And why else P? I did not want to cheat physically, I did not expect all I found there. Desire seeks an outlet, it must find one.)

It has left my boyfriend incapable of loving me, it seems, though I know he does.
(I love you more than I have anyone in my whole life, my boyfriend tells me yesterday again, You are the best friend I have ever had, and the best lover. He has said this always, again and again.
He has been my best friend also, ever. This will remain.)

It was not always like this. He was my lover once, but for some time I have been far more friend and caretaker than lover. Lovers should also be caretakers, but these should be roles that are in flux, not assigned permanently. I know this.

I know also that he and I will be friends still, and close ones. We had spoken about this possibility for the first time 3 months ago, that I may have to leave.

I do not leave him because there is someone. There is not. And we never leave *for* another anyway, we leave because of what is betweeen us, and finally because of what is no longer between us. Could we ever meet or find another, were the bonds between us not fraying?

I leave him because I will not lie, and to have recently fucked another makes it final for me, he is not my lover, not any more. He has not been, else I could not have been physically with another, and I've always known that if I should cross that final line I must end us. It is not his fault. It is not mine either. I end with him also because we are not on terms of parity anymore--his emotional fragility has meant I must constantly suppress my own emotions, to consider his own. I cannot express disappointment for example, even when it's justified, even when I make it clear I am not blaming him. His fragility and his anxiety are too great--the results for him are terrible.

I will not continue on unequal terms. I will not. It is not fair, not right. I will move on. though I have loved him more than anyone in my entire life, more completely, more wholly, with all of myself, and though I love him still. I will move on, I must. I will not find love, I will never find one like this has been, but libertinage. Carpe diem.

I am in transit, in flight, I am in London again for longer, seeing and staying with various friends, and I will see him soon, to establish and seal our new terms of friendship.

And my god, how it breaks my heart still to end, or rather to admit to him and to myself our ending, such crushing intense grief, such sorrow, such pain, I cannot find the words to convey it, just as we always said there was no word in English for us, the word love is not enough, and there are no words at all tonight for my grief, there are none, none, none, as there is also no choice, none. It's time.

posted by O @ 23:03