Capt. H’s Weblog

This is not going to end well for me. I can already feel it. This is going to end with me destroyed, I just know it. And why would I think any differently? It’s all I’ve ever known. She is either going to pick being single, or pick him. I am not even in the running. I am simply a plaything to keep her amused until she decides which of those two she wants. I should run like hell, get out now before the shit really hits the fan. But I have an odd affinity for being hurt. I think I just like that I get to self destruct after it happens. I love that it’s an excuse to be bummed, to be able to drink every night, to be able to smoke as much as I want, to up the amount of completely self-destructive things I love to do.

And now that I’ve decided she won’t pick me, I’ll find a way to unintentionally make that happen. I won’t even mean for it to happen, it just will. I’ll do or say something so stupid that it leaves her no choice but to leave me behind, hate me, despise me so much she never wants to see me again. What have I become that this is all I know? What made me this way? I really need to distance myself from the entire human race because all I ever end up doing is being hurt or hurting someone. I’m really just sick of feeling hope constantly die, and am quite ready to throw my hands up in surrender and ignore hope and happy feelings for as long as I can.

Right now I’m teetering on the edge of complete emotional shut down or happiness. It always seems to come down to those two. But I’m feeling myself start to falter into emotionless. Because I do want her, I want her so fucking bad. But I don’t want to get hurt anymore. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. And if I just shut down, I wouldn’t feel anything. Wouldn’t that be lovely?

I stood and watched the sun set. The gentle sounds of water lapping at the beach, the quiet calls of the birds, the wind whistling through the trees, it all worked together to create the perfect ambiance. It washed over me, through me, soothed me. This place was perfect in every way. I turned in a slow circle, watching the ghosts of the past flit in and out of my vision. They were everywhere here. There, on the beach. There, in the water. There, on the benches. There, in the pathway. Everywhere. It amazed me that such a small place could hold such massive sway over me. Everything I felt lately had, in an odd circular way, begun and ended here. I was drawn here, to this beach, this meadow. What would life have been like these last two years if we’d never come here? The bad sprang to the forefront of my mind; no dull ache constantly thrumming in my heart, no endless heartache, no unfulfilled dreams, no unreturned feelings. Even as I write this, I can feel the pain. It’s always with me, always emanating from the place inside me that is yours and yours alone. What would a day without this ache feel like? What would it be to feel whole again? A pointless line of thought. I knew with absolute certainty that I would feel this for as long as I lived. Love never fades, nor do its scars.

Unreturned love is an odd thing. It builds and builds inside you, a pressure so great that eventually it begins to choke and smother you. And how do you release all this built up passion and energy? The only true way is to take all this love and give it to the person who rightfully owns you heart, and have them do the same; feed off of each other. In reality that’s hardly ever possible. In most of us, that love builds and builds until it breaks through the dams and barricades we’ve hastily erected to futilely try and contain it. Some snap and lose themselves. Others tell the object of their desire. Sometimes the love is returned. More often it isn’t and we lose ourselves in the sorrow. And still others, myself included, hold it in, building new dams, new barricades, constantly rerouting and shifting loves power. This also never works. Love will always burn its way out of us. So we turn, burn and self destruct. The medium is not always the same, but the end result is: a vessel with no room for love, only hate. I’d reached that point long ago. My heart had been broken badly, and for many years I’d gone through life shutting love out, running on pure hate, reveling in it, loving it, drowning in it. My heart stayed broken, for no heart will ever mend if all that pumps through it is malice, rage and unfiltered hate. You become a husk. An so I carried on that way for years, pushing away everyone, enjoying my exile. That’s where I would be if it weren’t for this place.

A loud chirp jerks me back from my reverie. I turn back in time to see the sun hit the horizon and erupt into wondrous colors. Such beauty. But as I watched the spectacle in front of me, I couldn’t help but think that it paled in comparison to her beauty. Her beauty, beauty that needed no aid from artificial enhancers. She was…well words didn’t do her justice. The moment she entered a room, the energy within changed. It’s as though everyone inside is unconsciously drawn to her. But how could they not be? The sparkle and fire behind those eyes, that alluring half grin that dares you to make her smile, those cheekbones that lift and showcase her dimples, the twist of her lips, one eyebrow cocked teasingly. She has your full attention instantly, and she knows it. Whenever I see her face, I strive to draw out that slow grin. It melts my heart. But it’s always been her eyes that are my biggest weakness. Because on more than one occasion, those eyes have looked me up and down, seen the weakness in me, seen the struggle, seen the hate that lingers, taken my many faults in, and still found me worthy to draw her into my arms. I wonder when I hold her if she feels safe from her troubles, feels protected from her demons, feels love radiating from me. I wonder if she can sense I don’t want to ever let her go, that I want to hold onto the feeling for as long as possible. I wonder if she knows the lengths I would go for her.

A snippet from the 5 pages I just wrote about our story.

“But it’s always been her eyes that are my biggest weakness. Because on more than one occasion, those eyes have looked me up and down, seen the weakness in me, seen the struggle, seen the hate that lingers, taken my many faults in, and still me worthy to draw her into my arms”

I’m tired, There’s no other way to put it without over complicating the idea. I am exhausted. Today was too much. Too much rebounding, ricocheting between crushing depression and jubilant happiness. Frustrating. Although that seems to be a common trend in my life right now; being frustrated. My insecurities rule me. They prevent me from talking to the people I love, from making the changes I need to make, from keeping a smile on my face. I want to be happy. It’s not too much to ask, at least I don’t think so. I am a good person, I try to do good deeds, I try to be the best I can be on any given day. But some days it just feels like all too much. Trying to find love after being fed all this Hollywood bullshit with perfect endings. What the fuck is that? Who the fuck does that happen to? I can tell you, with what I’m trying to come to terms with right now and what I’m going through as I write this, that sometimes love fucking hurts. Love fucking kills, kills pieces of you, kills pieces of your soul. This love is crushing me, suffocating me. I am so in love that I am being consumed by it. I don’t know what a day without feeling like this would be like. I’m not sure I want to know. As painful as this is, and it honestly is soul crushing some days, it’s also reassuring to know that I’m feeling this again. Although maybe my definition and perception of love are skewed, badly. I know that I think about her every day, I know that she gives me goosebumps and butterflies, and I know that she really does see through my bullshit. But is my self imposed belief that she could never love me stopping her from loving me? Is my idea of love wrong because in my mind I’ve associated it with pain? Love hurts, love is breathtaking, love has brought nations to their knees, and started wars. And sometimes love isn’t enough, and sometimes love isn’t returned. I could stand beside this girl and she would have no idea of what she was doing to me, how much I was suffering because of love, how the love I feel for her was slowly burning me up from the inside out. Has this made me a coward? People who are in the ‘know’ have asked if I’ve told her, and my response is always the same: “Why the fuck would I EVER do that?”. And honestly, why would I? So I can feel rejection once again? I’m a fucking expert, thank you very fucking much. So I can watch her slowly drift out of my life one more fucking time, for what would probably be the last time. No fucking thank you. As much as I’ve complained, as much as this is slowly killing me, as much pain as this is causing me, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I need her in my life. She is a very stabilizing force. She balances my demons. The very demons she awoke. It’s a catch 22: have her in my life and slowly watch the wheels come off, or not have her and deal with the emptiness and ache her absence would surely cause.

If I could, I would read every love letter ever written. I would soak it all up, absorb it, try and learn everything I could. But would it make a difference? Could I write a love letter that would be ranked among the greatest? Maybe not, but it would still be something breathtaking. As stupid as this is going to sound, when you’re on my mind, I see you everywhere in everything. Maybe I’m looking for anything to connect to the idea of you. I feel better inside when I think of you. Like everything isn’t so bad, like maybe I can deal. It’s odd that Vegas gave me a clear head. Everything seemed so clear there. I could see everything with fresh perspective, could see how it all fit together and where my place in it all was. Now that I’m back, it’s like wool has been pulled over my eyes. Everything I figured out is blurry again, I’ve lost the connections, the revelations, the feelings. I’m back to square one. It’s irritating but not defeating. The problem is that when I was away there wasn’t any of the stresses and responsibilities of normal life. And now that I’m back all those things are back on my shoulders, and in my head clouding everything up. Nothing is as clear because I’m once again looking at things through eyes shaded by years of experience and opinions. There, away from it all, there was no need to see things that way because there were no responsibilities, no one to be beholden to. It’s frustrating. Can I train myself to see things that way all the time?

Sometimes, mainly all the time, I forget how blessed I am. This weekend has made me remember that I shouldn’t ever take what I have for granted. There were times this weekend when I had to stop and take a deep breath in, and take stock of what was happening around me. Limos everywhere, $500 dinners every night, private booth at the number one club in the world, poppin’ bottles and just generally making it rain. This week we were rock stars. It’s just so surreal to think about what we did this weekend, what we accomplished. The amount of money we were throwing around was ridiculous. I am blessed, truly.

This week also put things into perspective. As much fun as we had this week, a lot of these guys are going home to wives or girlfriends. That really awoke something in me. It’s like a feeling that’s been there the whole time but I didn’t notice it until now. A fire that had burned down to embers but is a blaze again. I think I am truly, madly, deeply in love with Nina. I don’t know why it’s taken me this long to realize, but I really do love her. I can feel it inside me, in my heart, in my smile, in the little things. She colors it all. I don’t know why I’ve repressed it for so long. It was too painful for a long time; a dull ache that was always there. But I’ve decided life is too short to spend wishing, dreaming and denying. I am love with a girl, a girl who may not ever love me back, and that really doesn’t bother me. I love her, and maybe someday she’ll get there on her own. Maybe someday she’ll love me back. Our reality is what we choose to make it. I will always choose Nina. Every word is treasured, every moment together is a gift, every flirtatious conversation is a prelude to something forbidden and impossible. She leaves me breathless. There’s really no other way to describe it. It feels like there’s something on my chest. My hearing fades until all I hear is my heart pounding and a rushing sound. I get tunnel vision. I am literally left speechless. It’s an amazing feeling. I feel helpless and all powerful all at once. I’m drawn to the face that I don’t care about anything beyond the face that I love her. Isn’t that what love is? Lowering everything and being completely vulnerable? I am an open book to her and she knows it. She sees through every pretense, every front, every bullshit lie. None of it fazes her. She just keeps drilling until she gets to the core of what I’m trying to hide or leave between the lines. Even if I’m pushing her away as hard as I can, she won’t back down until she gets what she wants. It’s endearing. She’s strong willed, stubborn and has a natural toughness. But inside she’s so amazingly fragile and soft that I’m terrified to hurt her for fear she might break. She’s night and day, all at once, all the time. It leads to frustration, anger, sadness because sometimes I can’t tell if she’s lashing out or honestly mad. But God do I love her.