Sometimes I miss J. I miss him in a strange way, in a wistful sort of sepia-tinged way. I miss him when things are difficult with The Other, like they are now. I miss the simplicity and predictability of things “with” J. The thing is, everything with The Other is also quite predictable. I know how The Other reacts and interacts and I find nothing surprising in his passivity, his fear, his dismal attempts to quiet the screaming. At first, when things were new again, when it felt like I had been given a second chance, everything was dizzying and perfect and The Other was hesitant but at least somewhat open to peace negotiations. There was a moment one afternoon when he seemed to step back and let some of his defenses down. It came rushing through this other worldly plane that binds us all together and for awhile, things were good. Solid. Defined.
Now there is nothing but silence and a hint of spite. Retracting, recoiling. I cannot get it back. I cannot demand The Other stay or change or fulfill all of my selfish fantasies. I cannot, so I will not. This makes me miss J. The hum of possibility was always so vibrant and electric that even in the pulling away, it seemed all right. Perhaps that is because it was never meant to turn out the way I thought it might. Perhaps that is why, despite the occasional pang of desperate need, watching him fade from importance in my life never really happened. One day I was on the way home from work and realized that I no longer missed him. The thought of seeing him no longer thrilled me. Perhaps that was its natural lifetime coming to an end.
I wish though that this was not the case. Right now I wish it because I am hurt. I feel abandoned and shunned and angry and hurt. I feel as though a fight took place between us and I was absent for it. Maybe he has remembered the past and everything in it and does not want it to happen again and so he is retreating to protect himself. Maybe this is true. Maybe it is not. But whatever the case, it makes me miss J. It makes me want to hurt The Other with my memories of J, to flaunt everything J was to me in his face, to prove that I don’t need him.
But I do need him. I will always need him.
