I want to lodge a formal complaint with the neighboring cities here which have ZERO true combat classes or arenas. "True combat" meaning something more than karate or kickboxing. Been there, done that. I want something more along the lines of Krav Maga or Egyptian Kai.
Sometimes, while at work or just laying in bed determining whether I want to go to the gym or not (like right now), I run through the training exercises Jake had me learn years ago. Run, drop, tuck, roll, arm up, aim straight, one foot in front of the other, run! Over and over again, and I could never get it right. Lights off, total silence, climb the stairs and if he could hear me at anytime, get back down and start all over. Once he stood at the top of the landing pretending to be a guard, and mimed "watering the flowers" while whistling some ridiculous playground tune. I burst out laughing, which received a lecture on how you never know what anyone is going to do and yes, men do pretty stupid things when they think no one is watching.
Hand-to-hand combat was not as difficult or as thoroughly needed. Well, as I put it. Jake didn't believe me when I said I already knew how to fight hand-to-hand, so we went through some slow-motion moves to get me warmed up. Okay, so I wasn't the most respectful student, with the eye-rolling and sighs and insistence that I already knew this. I tried explaining that it's instinct, that I didn't need training because in actual combat, my instincts take over and are far more accurate than my self-controlled version. Jake raised a brow and said tough, it's highly unlikely. So he took a swing, and in my surprise I ducked and lifted my arms in a blocking stance that deflected the blow, and my right fist jabbed at his unprotected stomach. I stopped in time before I actually hit him. His eyes lit up and the biggest grin crossed his face. "Great job!" He said, looking me up and down at my, haha INSTINCTIVE stance, and I grinned back. "Okay, so we don't need to cover that part of training...."
We went through everything, from building a shelter out of nothing to distilling water with riverbank sand. The biggest obstacle was that stupid tree trunk that had fallen who-knows-when and hovered above the river that he was sooooooo determined I not only cross, but learn how to catch a gun on and do my "instinctive hand-to-hand" on. I just looked at him like he'd grown a second nose.
I swear a few times he purposely acted like he'd "lost it" and gone out, literally, on the limb just so I'd be inspired to overcome my fear of that tree trunk. One day, as we both stood on the trunk, me gripping his arm for dear life, he swore if I didn't get the next exercise right, he'd shove me off into the water. Well we did it, I got it perfectly right thank you very much, and the next thing I knew his palm connected with my shoulder and I was falling.
"What happened, honey??" My parents snickered behind the concern in their voices as I shuffled into our house dripping wet.
"He pushed me! He freaking pushed me!"
Oddly enough, my fear of that tree trunk vanished along with my dignity. When next we went to continue training, we were saddened to discover the trunk was gone. Floods or the land owner took it away, and I was miffed. All that work, I was finally able to do everything Jake wanted me to on that stupid thing, and it was gone.
6.27.2011
6.26.2011
Sex
One of my temporary roommates said she'd feel uncomfortable if a guy stayed in the room available on the other side of our apartment for the summer. Okay, I understood (kinda, for someone almost 30 years old I figured her to be a bit more...accommodating) and I didn't argue that the poor guy needed a place to stay.
Now her boyfriend comes over a lot and guess what I get to listen to in the middle of the night even when I am fast asleep in deep dream? Yep. Sex. Hard, gasping, sweaty sex. I applaud his vigor and stamina, but good grief, people! I'm right here! I'm totally okay if a guy lives in the room across the way, what I'm not okay with is all this huffing and puffing and other very distinctive sounds carrying out of the room right next to mine! It's just awkward when he's still here in the morning because yes I do know what they've been up to and being an untried virgin, it's just...idk. Weird.
Aforementioned roommate's view on relationships puzzles me. She doesn't want to get married or have children, and she very easily breaks up with whoever she's dating at the time if, to put it bluntly, he displeases her. She even broke up with her amazing boyfriend she's currently with because he wasn't smart enough; I was so inwardly pissed off at the pretentiousness, I politely said if she didn't want him, I'll take him, since she's putting a perfectly good dream-man to waste. The next day they were back together, going at it in her bedroom next to mine. Later on she told me she blames me for making her rethink her decision. I just smiled, maybe a little too proudly, and shrugged.
What I don't understand is how someone can be so intimate with another a not feel a bond at all, and even without the bond, continue to repeat the process over and over again. Doesn't it feel depressing at all? I know what it's like to just kiss someone with whom there is zero intimate connection, and I did find the absence of a spark depressing. It was empty. How the heck can anyone have sex with the emptiness?
My views on intimacy are, for a virgin, quite vivid and intense. I refuse to "sleep with" anyone outside of marriage, despite the frequent hunger pains for passion, because I know that whoever gets to know me THAT intimately will be bound to me and I to him for all eternity. I won't just have sex. I will make love, and quite vigorously. To me, the whole act is an art form, and you can't honestly slap paint on a wall and call it art; it takes time and effort and a certain finesse. Sex is an art for private commission only, and hell yes am I a firm believer in performing for one's mate often, if not every day/night. Too often I hear complaints about how couples only get to be with each other 3 nights a week, or how the woman is frigid, or the man is too demanding.... That is also depressing. But then again, understandable, if we assume the factors behind the ailments have anything to do with having sex without the bond.
I've considered becoming a sex therapist. Honestly, though, I just can't do it, mainly because if word got out I'm a virgin, I would lose all credibility. As if I could speak from experience!
Sometimes, when people learn that I am a virgin and almost 22 years old, they wonder what's wrong with me, like I'm some sort of defective good. Oftentimes, to my great relief, I get congratulated, my hand shaken with honor, and told repeatedly to keep on going with my vows so I can avoid the torments that come with impatience. Even my sister Kami made me promise to "do things right". Mom has asked me to, should I ever find myself unable to withstand the insatiable hunger for passion, to at least be married, formal ceremony or no.
The closest I've ever come to recanting my vows was with Tristan, and purely for the sake of having a child to love, raise, and inherit the throne of Gora. Well, come to think of it, I'm not sure what one would consider "close". Discussing the options and determining a set date? Tristan. Laughing and giggling, kissing, playfully flipping up skirts and unbuttoning shirts only to put them back in place to start the game all over again, dancing on the edge of propriety and desire? Jake. Most definitely Jake. We never talked as thoroughly about the subject, but the prospect was there, hanging in the air between us like invisible and magnetic mistletoe. One night, when he was staying over at my place (I lived in a hotel that summer), I'd slipped into bed while he was in the shower. When he was ready for bed as well and yanked the covers off to tease me, his eyes went wide and the biggest grin/gasp spread on his face at the sight of my bare legs. I honestly don't remember what happened after that. Damn.
I've thought long and hard about my regrets, and one big one that stands out in my mind is that I never experienced the intense intimacy of making love with Jake. Not that it wasn't on the table. Oh yes, we had many a conversation debating whether we should just go at it or not. He wanted to, oh so very much so, and I wanted to stick to my vows of waiting until marriage. During one such conversation, he "married" us over the phone, being certified to perform marriage ceremonies thanks to some program on the internet, and I couldn't help but blush and laugh. And I honestly asked myself if I should just do it.
Damn my stubbornness.
For a while I was grateful, seeing as there is more than one "Tristan Keller" and I'm meant to be with one of them, but now I'm just banging my head into the wall. Duh. Duh, duh, duh. When Tristan himself said Jake loved me, I inwardly screamed at myself. How could I have been so dense? Of course I was cautious in believing this "news", but Tristan had a valid argument. And he knew the behind-the-scenes persona of Jake, who he really was to an extent greater than my own knowledge. Even now, and for the past year, Tristan has repeatedly told me he's certain I will be with Jake again. When the Goran Prince makes even the most offhand observation of what may yet to come, he is very, very rarely wrong. In fact, I can't think of a time when he WAS wrong.
My mind and heart are haunted with memories, and the only way to put them to rest is to get closure of any kind, the best being Jake's return. I'm just terrified I will see him again, only to discover everything WAS just an act and my love is only for someone who truly does not exist. But I have to believe Tristan, and Raine, and the aching feeling deep in my soul that this was and is all very real.
Now her boyfriend comes over a lot and guess what I get to listen to in the middle of the night even when I am fast asleep in deep dream? Yep. Sex. Hard, gasping, sweaty sex. I applaud his vigor and stamina, but good grief, people! I'm right here! I'm totally okay if a guy lives in the room across the way, what I'm not okay with is all this huffing and puffing and other very distinctive sounds carrying out of the room right next to mine! It's just awkward when he's still here in the morning because yes I do know what they've been up to and being an untried virgin, it's just...idk. Weird.
Aforementioned roommate's view on relationships puzzles me. She doesn't want to get married or have children, and she very easily breaks up with whoever she's dating at the time if, to put it bluntly, he displeases her. She even broke up with her amazing boyfriend she's currently with because he wasn't smart enough; I was so inwardly pissed off at the pretentiousness, I politely said if she didn't want him, I'll take him, since she's putting a perfectly good dream-man to waste. The next day they were back together, going at it in her bedroom next to mine. Later on she told me she blames me for making her rethink her decision. I just smiled, maybe a little too proudly, and shrugged.
What I don't understand is how someone can be so intimate with another a not feel a bond at all, and even without the bond, continue to repeat the process over and over again. Doesn't it feel depressing at all? I know what it's like to just kiss someone with whom there is zero intimate connection, and I did find the absence of a spark depressing. It was empty. How the heck can anyone have sex with the emptiness?
My views on intimacy are, for a virgin, quite vivid and intense. I refuse to "sleep with" anyone outside of marriage, despite the frequent hunger pains for passion, because I know that whoever gets to know me THAT intimately will be bound to me and I to him for all eternity. I won't just have sex. I will make love, and quite vigorously. To me, the whole act is an art form, and you can't honestly slap paint on a wall and call it art; it takes time and effort and a certain finesse. Sex is an art for private commission only, and hell yes am I a firm believer in performing for one's mate often, if not every day/night. Too often I hear complaints about how couples only get to be with each other 3 nights a week, or how the woman is frigid, or the man is too demanding.... That is also depressing. But then again, understandable, if we assume the factors behind the ailments have anything to do with having sex without the bond.
I've considered becoming a sex therapist. Honestly, though, I just can't do it, mainly because if word got out I'm a virgin, I would lose all credibility. As if I could speak from experience!
Sometimes, when people learn that I am a virgin and almost 22 years old, they wonder what's wrong with me, like I'm some sort of defective good. Oftentimes, to my great relief, I get congratulated, my hand shaken with honor, and told repeatedly to keep on going with my vows so I can avoid the torments that come with impatience. Even my sister Kami made me promise to "do things right". Mom has asked me to, should I ever find myself unable to withstand the insatiable hunger for passion, to at least be married, formal ceremony or no.
The closest I've ever come to recanting my vows was with Tristan, and purely for the sake of having a child to love, raise, and inherit the throne of Gora. Well, come to think of it, I'm not sure what one would consider "close". Discussing the options and determining a set date? Tristan. Laughing and giggling, kissing, playfully flipping up skirts and unbuttoning shirts only to put them back in place to start the game all over again, dancing on the edge of propriety and desire? Jake. Most definitely Jake. We never talked as thoroughly about the subject, but the prospect was there, hanging in the air between us like invisible and magnetic mistletoe. One night, when he was staying over at my place (I lived in a hotel that summer), I'd slipped into bed while he was in the shower. When he was ready for bed as well and yanked the covers off to tease me, his eyes went wide and the biggest grin/gasp spread on his face at the sight of my bare legs. I honestly don't remember what happened after that. Damn.
I've thought long and hard about my regrets, and one big one that stands out in my mind is that I never experienced the intense intimacy of making love with Jake. Not that it wasn't on the table. Oh yes, we had many a conversation debating whether we should just go at it or not. He wanted to, oh so very much so, and I wanted to stick to my vows of waiting until marriage. During one such conversation, he "married" us over the phone, being certified to perform marriage ceremonies thanks to some program on the internet, and I couldn't help but blush and laugh. And I honestly asked myself if I should just do it.
Damn my stubbornness.
For a while I was grateful, seeing as there is more than one "Tristan Keller" and I'm meant to be with one of them, but now I'm just banging my head into the wall. Duh. Duh, duh, duh. When Tristan himself said Jake loved me, I inwardly screamed at myself. How could I have been so dense? Of course I was cautious in believing this "news", but Tristan had a valid argument. And he knew the behind-the-scenes persona of Jake, who he really was to an extent greater than my own knowledge. Even now, and for the past year, Tristan has repeatedly told me he's certain I will be with Jake again. When the Goran Prince makes even the most offhand observation of what may yet to come, he is very, very rarely wrong. In fact, I can't think of a time when he WAS wrong.
My mind and heart are haunted with memories, and the only way to put them to rest is to get closure of any kind, the best being Jake's return. I'm just terrified I will see him again, only to discover everything WAS just an act and my love is only for someone who truly does not exist. But I have to believe Tristan, and Raine, and the aching feeling deep in my soul that this was and is all very real.
In an effort to drown myself to the truth, I have spent the last two years doing idiotic things.
Now, as the two year anniversary of Jake's disappearance into the world and my introduction to the true existence of our kind, via Prince Tristan approaches, I have to owe up to my mistakes. My blemishes. My shortcomings, downfalls, and betrayals.
The world, my friends and family, don't blame me nor do they call it betrayal. But my heart says differently. I have tried to do as everyone would expect, to move on and find happiness in another man and in myself. I repeated the words Jake said to me shortly before he left over and over in my mind, trying desperately to believe them so there could be peace. "I don't want you falling in love with me."
Over and over again I told myself that everything was just a lie, just a cover, just a facade to save the life of a young man, a prince. I did my part in playing the loving girlfriend and companion. Only when Tristan himself revealed the truth of his part in everything did I stop pretending. So I thought, at least. I showed him just how fierce I could be, I told him exactly what I think about his personal policies, and I made no secret of our disagreements. I was so tired of pretending everything was okay when it was hell.
But I never stopped lying to myself.
Living in a city full of beautiful men, in a neighborhood overflowing with hormones and virile males more than willing to give a good roll in the sheets....it has given me a new perspective on who I truly am. All this time I've been trying to be a normal woman, someone who can just flirt at will and seduce whoever she wants because she belongs to no one. But standing in the middle of a swimming pool surrounded by shirtless men, standing on a small stage in a bar surrounded by men staring and leering like wolves, standing in the midst of every opportunity to "move on".... I want none of it. I don't want a single one of the golden gods, of the horny alcoholics, nor of any gentleman who is kind enough to extend an invitation into womanhood.
I want Jake.
Two years of telling myself I can do whatever the hell I want have come into this conclusion that no, I cannot, and I really don't have the desire to.
When Simon leaned in so very close, slipped off his sunglasses, and said with just a slight slur, "I am going to do to you what I've never done to anyone else in my whole life," something or someone so definitely NOT me lunged out through my mind and soul into his with a very loud "THE HELL YOU DO!" I swear I saw an invisible fist connect with his head. I matched his gaze dead-on and when he moved just a fraction closer, I threw up every single mentally-induced wall I could muster, slamming them together without the benefit of arm movement. I felt like two completely different people were flowing through me; myself and someone else both raising to the defenses of my virtue. I knew it was just a kiss, but even the thought of actually kissing someone else, no matter who he is, both repulsed and terrified me.
Simon's eyes clouded over. He didn't move, didn't speak, for what felt like an hour. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Raine and Marshall watching intently, his eyes on me and Raine focused completely on Simon. I felt a sort of....physical embodiment, like a "ghost arm", clench a fist and I felt like I should actually make a fist even if to just keep it on my lap. Simon swallowed, and gave a lewdly gentle smile. "Since I can't kiss your lips, I will savor the taste of your..." I felt another pulse surge through me into him, and he muttered, "hand."
That I could live with. I half expected him to pull a frenchie on my wrist (yes, have had that done to my poor hand by none other than a married man, ugh), but it was chaste. Lingering, but chaste. He repeated the notion each time I tried to slip away, but I finally gave him a kiss on the cheek after a hug just to throw him off a bit long enough for me to make my swift exit in grace and tact. It worked.
Later on, when I told Raine about the sensations, she explained that it may have been her. She knew immediately what Simon's intentions were and, being just like me in almost every way (which makes me wonder about her own genetics), she slammed herself into him. Just threw herself into his mind and ordered him to cease and desist if he valued his manhood and pride. Apparently she's done this once before on him when he put the moves on her, and his eyes clouded then as well. I was grateful for this explanation and took it as that. An explanation for the sensation of someone else "jumping" through me.
But it didn't feel like Raine. Nor did it sound like her. It was very distinctly male.
This could all be my vivid imagination, I know. But all day I have been reviewing my life since meeting Jake and dammit all, I HAVE to believe he is alive! I have to believe that God in His infinite wisdom and grace and unending love, not to mention the fact that He NEVER lies, kept His promises and did not just lead me on a merry chase to no where!
I prayed as a young girl for a love story unlike any other. Dating identical non-related twins, one a marine and the other an extraterrestrial prince, definitely answered that prayer. I prayed for guidance in finding the husband God chose for me, that He would restrict my abilities to be with whoever I wanted so I wouldn't make the common mistakes of a woman in heat. I wanted so desperately to give myself only to the man destined to be my husband. I prayed that my first kiss would only be with my true mate. I prayed, I begged God to control my love life so I wouldn't end up a single mother of fatherless children, always fighting some asshole for a few scraps of bread.
I was 16 when I met Jake. The summer of my 18th birthday was when we danced on a sandbar in the middle of the small river that flowed through our favorite "hideaway" woods, when he undid my braid and ran his fingers through my hair saying he liked it better that way, when I tried to steal a kiss and he dodged it and I moaned that he always avoids me, when he asked "what, this?" and took my breath away in the most electrifying kiss I have ever experienced. I was 19 the following summer when we danced with the notion of taking things a step further; we knew we would be married and wanted each other so very much, but we held true to honor and a certain amount of propriety; then he left for a week and when he came back, told me he didn't know if he wanted to marry me anymore. Then everything was shattered. I learned the truth, learned of the existence of Tristan, of the curse placed on my family by those starving for power, and of Jake's role in my life.
When I turned 20 Jake and I decided to be friends, in the way he wasn't allowed with anyone else even within the Organization. I learned about his past, what he would tell at least, I tried to learn about who he was as Jake, not Tristan. I found that I liked him, despite the all-too-effective lies. And he told me he didn't want me to fall in love with him. When I asked him why, since he'd completed the task of breaking me the first time he dumped me, did he ever resume our relationship and plan marriage, he did not have an audible answer other than, "Things....came up. Stuff happened." He didn't even look me in the eye when he said that little bit.
My 21st birthday was spent drinking spiced beer alone in my empty apartment with no food other than an ice cream cake courtesy of my mother via mailed gift card. Jake was dead. Tristan was decidedly gay. I was alone with my thoughts, without a job or a shred of dignity. Virgin, overweight, decaying from the inside-out.
I turn 22 in a month. I've never kissed a man other than Jake or Tristan, the latter so physically reminiscent of the former, it could be argued that I've only kissed one man my entire life. I'm still a virgin; despite my attempts to get the courage to change it, the second I have the opportunity on a platter I backpedal for my life, dignity and strangely, for the honor of a man who remains a mystery to me. And I have not dated anyone other than those two. Online relationships, however "real" they may seem, do not count. Because even then, my thoughts were with Jake.
Marshall asked me if I want to live the rest of my life in loneliness. I realized that it's better than living a lie with someone else, and I told him so. He shook his head and further emphasized the need for me to find a good man to take care of me; despite the frustration of him not understanding the situation, I felt honored that he cares about me so much. He would see me happy, which would make Raine even happier. Marshall was a soldier, so we do connect on that level of understanding.
I sang during the karaoke part. Two of the songs I picked as a private dedication to Jake, remembering how he encouraged me to sing, how we would spend hours at the piano composing and losing ourselves in the music. When I started to sing the second song, "My Immortal" by Evanescence (cliche, but fitting), the whole bar quieted. Women turned around in their seats to watch, men sat down in tables and chairs closer to the stage. I hid the blush and focused on the song, and imagined Jake standing right there in front of me, listening to me sing of my pain and sorrow and yearning. Every note was hit perfectly, and I knew deep down that all this, the perfection and glamour, all of it was my crying out for him to come home. Had it been any other song, any other words, I'd get by. But this was my plea for him.
Jake, I don't know if you can or are reading this, or if you even know who I am through all the name changes and such. But I have to try. Two years ago I made the same effort for Tristan, thinking that since you didn't want me I must have been meant for him. The effort worked, but I was so wrong. So horribly wrong. How can I beg forgiveness for the same stupidity I keep committing?
I pray that God will bring you home. This is your home, where people love you and miss you and want you back. I miss you more than words can describe! So many times I have imagined what it would be like to see you again, even for a moment, and I honestly don't know what I would say. My family missed you, our friends miss you, and my niece needs to meet the man who makes her aunt smile brighter than sunlight. I refuse to believe you are dead because every bone in my body screams you're alive. I feel you, even as far apart as we are.
And I am so, so, so extremely sorry for hurting you.
Please, Jake, find this and come home.
Now, as the two year anniversary of Jake's disappearance into the world and my introduction to the true existence of our kind, via Prince Tristan approaches, I have to owe up to my mistakes. My blemishes. My shortcomings, downfalls, and betrayals.
The world, my friends and family, don't blame me nor do they call it betrayal. But my heart says differently. I have tried to do as everyone would expect, to move on and find happiness in another man and in myself. I repeated the words Jake said to me shortly before he left over and over in my mind, trying desperately to believe them so there could be peace. "I don't want you falling in love with me."
Over and over again I told myself that everything was just a lie, just a cover, just a facade to save the life of a young man, a prince. I did my part in playing the loving girlfriend and companion. Only when Tristan himself revealed the truth of his part in everything did I stop pretending. So I thought, at least. I showed him just how fierce I could be, I told him exactly what I think about his personal policies, and I made no secret of our disagreements. I was so tired of pretending everything was okay when it was hell.
But I never stopped lying to myself.
Living in a city full of beautiful men, in a neighborhood overflowing with hormones and virile males more than willing to give a good roll in the sheets....it has given me a new perspective on who I truly am. All this time I've been trying to be a normal woman, someone who can just flirt at will and seduce whoever she wants because she belongs to no one. But standing in the middle of a swimming pool surrounded by shirtless men, standing on a small stage in a bar surrounded by men staring and leering like wolves, standing in the midst of every opportunity to "move on".... I want none of it. I don't want a single one of the golden gods, of the horny alcoholics, nor of any gentleman who is kind enough to extend an invitation into womanhood.
I want Jake.
Two years of telling myself I can do whatever the hell I want have come into this conclusion that no, I cannot, and I really don't have the desire to.
When Simon leaned in so very close, slipped off his sunglasses, and said with just a slight slur, "I am going to do to you what I've never done to anyone else in my whole life," something or someone so definitely NOT me lunged out through my mind and soul into his with a very loud "THE HELL YOU DO!" I swear I saw an invisible fist connect with his head. I matched his gaze dead-on and when he moved just a fraction closer, I threw up every single mentally-induced wall I could muster, slamming them together without the benefit of arm movement. I felt like two completely different people were flowing through me; myself and someone else both raising to the defenses of my virtue. I knew it was just a kiss, but even the thought of actually kissing someone else, no matter who he is, both repulsed and terrified me.
Simon's eyes clouded over. He didn't move, didn't speak, for what felt like an hour. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Raine and Marshall watching intently, his eyes on me and Raine focused completely on Simon. I felt a sort of....physical embodiment, like a "ghost arm", clench a fist and I felt like I should actually make a fist even if to just keep it on my lap. Simon swallowed, and gave a lewdly gentle smile. "Since I can't kiss your lips, I will savor the taste of your..." I felt another pulse surge through me into him, and he muttered, "hand."
That I could live with. I half expected him to pull a frenchie on my wrist (yes, have had that done to my poor hand by none other than a married man, ugh), but it was chaste. Lingering, but chaste. He repeated the notion each time I tried to slip away, but I finally gave him a kiss on the cheek after a hug just to throw him off a bit long enough for me to make my swift exit in grace and tact. It worked.
Later on, when I told Raine about the sensations, she explained that it may have been her. She knew immediately what Simon's intentions were and, being just like me in almost every way (which makes me wonder about her own genetics), she slammed herself into him. Just threw herself into his mind and ordered him to cease and desist if he valued his manhood and pride. Apparently she's done this once before on him when he put the moves on her, and his eyes clouded then as well. I was grateful for this explanation and took it as that. An explanation for the sensation of someone else "jumping" through me.
But it didn't feel like Raine. Nor did it sound like her. It was very distinctly male.
This could all be my vivid imagination, I know. But all day I have been reviewing my life since meeting Jake and dammit all, I HAVE to believe he is alive! I have to believe that God in His infinite wisdom and grace and unending love, not to mention the fact that He NEVER lies, kept His promises and did not just lead me on a merry chase to no where!
I prayed as a young girl for a love story unlike any other. Dating identical non-related twins, one a marine and the other an extraterrestrial prince, definitely answered that prayer. I prayed for guidance in finding the husband God chose for me, that He would restrict my abilities to be with whoever I wanted so I wouldn't make the common mistakes of a woman in heat. I wanted so desperately to give myself only to the man destined to be my husband. I prayed that my first kiss would only be with my true mate. I prayed, I begged God to control my love life so I wouldn't end up a single mother of fatherless children, always fighting some asshole for a few scraps of bread.
I was 16 when I met Jake. The summer of my 18th birthday was when we danced on a sandbar in the middle of the small river that flowed through our favorite "hideaway" woods, when he undid my braid and ran his fingers through my hair saying he liked it better that way, when I tried to steal a kiss and he dodged it and I moaned that he always avoids me, when he asked "what, this?" and took my breath away in the most electrifying kiss I have ever experienced. I was 19 the following summer when we danced with the notion of taking things a step further; we knew we would be married and wanted each other so very much, but we held true to honor and a certain amount of propriety; then he left for a week and when he came back, told me he didn't know if he wanted to marry me anymore. Then everything was shattered. I learned the truth, learned of the existence of Tristan, of the curse placed on my family by those starving for power, and of Jake's role in my life.
When I turned 20 Jake and I decided to be friends, in the way he wasn't allowed with anyone else even within the Organization. I learned about his past, what he would tell at least, I tried to learn about who he was as Jake, not Tristan. I found that I liked him, despite the all-too-effective lies. And he told me he didn't want me to fall in love with him. When I asked him why, since he'd completed the task of breaking me the first time he dumped me, did he ever resume our relationship and plan marriage, he did not have an audible answer other than, "Things....came up. Stuff happened." He didn't even look me in the eye when he said that little bit.
My 21st birthday was spent drinking spiced beer alone in my empty apartment with no food other than an ice cream cake courtesy of my mother via mailed gift card. Jake was dead. Tristan was decidedly gay. I was alone with my thoughts, without a job or a shred of dignity. Virgin, overweight, decaying from the inside-out.
I turn 22 in a month. I've never kissed a man other than Jake or Tristan, the latter so physically reminiscent of the former, it could be argued that I've only kissed one man my entire life. I'm still a virgin; despite my attempts to get the courage to change it, the second I have the opportunity on a platter I backpedal for my life, dignity and strangely, for the honor of a man who remains a mystery to me. And I have not dated anyone other than those two. Online relationships, however "real" they may seem, do not count. Because even then, my thoughts were with Jake.
Marshall asked me if I want to live the rest of my life in loneliness. I realized that it's better than living a lie with someone else, and I told him so. He shook his head and further emphasized the need for me to find a good man to take care of me; despite the frustration of him not understanding the situation, I felt honored that he cares about me so much. He would see me happy, which would make Raine even happier. Marshall was a soldier, so we do connect on that level of understanding.
I sang during the karaoke part. Two of the songs I picked as a private dedication to Jake, remembering how he encouraged me to sing, how we would spend hours at the piano composing and losing ourselves in the music. When I started to sing the second song, "My Immortal" by Evanescence (cliche, but fitting), the whole bar quieted. Women turned around in their seats to watch, men sat down in tables and chairs closer to the stage. I hid the blush and focused on the song, and imagined Jake standing right there in front of me, listening to me sing of my pain and sorrow and yearning. Every note was hit perfectly, and I knew deep down that all this, the perfection and glamour, all of it was my crying out for him to come home. Had it been any other song, any other words, I'd get by. But this was my plea for him.
Jake, I don't know if you can or are reading this, or if you even know who I am through all the name changes and such. But I have to try. Two years ago I made the same effort for Tristan, thinking that since you didn't want me I must have been meant for him. The effort worked, but I was so wrong. So horribly wrong. How can I beg forgiveness for the same stupidity I keep committing?
I pray that God will bring you home. This is your home, where people love you and miss you and want you back. I miss you more than words can describe! So many times I have imagined what it would be like to see you again, even for a moment, and I honestly don't know what I would say. My family missed you, our friends miss you, and my niece needs to meet the man who makes her aunt smile brighter than sunlight. I refuse to believe you are dead because every bone in my body screams you're alive. I feel you, even as far apart as we are.
And I am so, so, so extremely sorry for hurting you.
Please, Jake, find this and come home.
6.25.2011
Mate
I had every intention of "testing" my theories on the glamour of our kind, specifically my own blend of half-breed, at the bar last night. It was my best friend Raine's 23rd birthday and she invited me to hang out with her and her fiance, Marshall, at our usual watering hole (I don't go too often unless she invites me; I'm not much of a bar person).
Earlier yesterday I took her to lunch and did a little shopping; she is 5 months pregnant with their first child and since she's been my best friend for almost 10 years, I'm certainly excited! And while we stuffed ourselves with Chinese food and cooed over tiny swimsuits, a question was nagging at the back of my mind that somehow only she could answer. We sat down to eat our ice cream (her treat, since she'll be out of town for my birthday) and I finally asked it.
"Was there ever one thing that Jake said that you know, deep down, was not a lie in any way?"
Raine took a bite of her ice cream and thought for a moment. "Yes, actually."
I waited, my spoon poised mid-bite.
"It was one of the very rare arguments you two had that actually ended with a break-up. He called me-"
"He called you?" I raised a brow, not remembering her ever mentioning this at all in the last 6 years.
Raine laughed. "Yes, he called me. I'm your best friend, he was your boyfriend, we had each other's number and we talked quite a bit. So yes, he called me-"
"Why?"
She rolled her eyes at my persistence and smiled. "It was a few days after your break-up, and he called me and asked if you were okay. He was worried about you."
I frowned, trying to place it in context with everything that had happened when Jake was here. Raine vaguely remembered we were still going to youth group, still in high school, so I figured this must have been the first time I was ever dumped. And yes, I clearly remembered Jake (as Tristan) pulling me close and holding me, asking me if I was okay, comforting me as I sobbed moments after he told me he needed some "soul-seeking time" and we couldn't be together. I had been confused as frick. Now I was just finding out he'd been keeping tabs on me, making sure I was doing well despite the pain in my heart.
"So I asked him, I said, 'Jake, can you see yourself growing old with her? Is Mira the one you want to spend the rest of your life with, grow old with.... I mean, if you could choose ANYONE in this world to be with, would you base your decision off Mira?'" Raine sighed and swirled her spoon in her dish. "He was quiet for a while. Then he said, 'If I had my way, I would spend the rest of my life with Mira.'"
I didn't know what to say, so I just stared at her. She went on to tell me about other conversations they had, surprisingly most of them were Jake asking her how our first kiss should be like, how to seduce me, what do I like, etc etc. And even more surprising was that, should her account be accurate (it usually is, to be honest, I've never known her to lie to me in all the 10 years we've known each other), Jake was just as "inexperienced" in the ways of love as I was/am.
"So....Tristan is going back to college this fall," I said after a while.
Raine slowly nodded, her eyes on mine. "Chicago?"
I nodded. "And I've been thinking..."
"That this whole thing seems really familiar and they're going to pull another switch."
Wow. She was good. "The last time all this....this avoidance, this push-Mira-aside attitude, going to Chicago at the last minute [meaning enrolling during the summer]....Jake left and Tristan returned. And this just all seems way too familiar."
Raine nodded. "I'm with you on that one."
"Plus..." I sighed. "Plus, my dreams? The ones I had like crazy when Jake was around that showed him leaving and coming back after two years? That two-year mark is this August. The same time Tristan is going back to college."
We shared a knowing look.
Later that night we went to the bar, and immediately upon entering a guy friend of theirs came up and wished her a happy birthday. She introduced us, asking if we'd ever met.
"No," said Simon, looking me up and down with a huge grin, "but I am sure glad we have now!"
I blushed and thanked him, hurrying to our usual booth. All night he was staring, gazing, and Marshall spoke with him in private for a moment. Then Simon approached, and thus began a realization that I just cannot play the games of men and women, the flirting and promiscuousness. He was a sweet guy, and professed my beauty over and over (seriously, he said things like "you are the most amazingly, drop-dead-gorgeous woman I have seen in my LIFE and my heart is just pounding!") which did boost my ego.
But all I could see in my mind was Jake. All I could feel was the all-too-familiar ache to be with him, to lean on him, to feel him close. To laugh and talk and dream like we used to. And when Simon mentioned that we should just ditch the group and "go get naked", I knew right then and there I could never do that with any man but Jake. I was very kind and explained to Simon that I live by a strict code of honor since I was 12, and he respected that.
Long story short, the night ended with Simon shedding a few tears of frustration and Marshall lecturing me on how I can't keep living a lonely life for a dead guy when I can't find better than who was right in front of me. I looked to Raine for help, who was just as at loss for words as I was. She knows I'm different, that what made Simon so passionate for me that he would cry in a public place was not my doing but genetics, a glamour. And she knows that my heart was taken by Jake a long time ago and is no longer mine to give to just anyone. And through that whole time, I bit my tongue before blurting out that Marshall never met Jake so he couldn't make such claims. Finally I explained to Simon that I am grieving the death of my fiance (a slight stretch, since publicly I've only been engaged to Tristan, but in the technicalities that even Tristan have examined, Jake and I WERE going to be married if we had our way) and live a life that I could not in my loving heart place on him.
He kissed my hand repeatedly, and I was reminded of a knight pining for his queen....Helen of Troy came to mind....and inwardly I groaned. Once I had made a goal to be like Helen and have my own personal guard of men who would protect me at all costs. Wish was granted, and I will regret it for the rest of my life.
Jake, please come home!
Earlier yesterday I took her to lunch and did a little shopping; she is 5 months pregnant with their first child and since she's been my best friend for almost 10 years, I'm certainly excited! And while we stuffed ourselves with Chinese food and cooed over tiny swimsuits, a question was nagging at the back of my mind that somehow only she could answer. We sat down to eat our ice cream (her treat, since she'll be out of town for my birthday) and I finally asked it.
"Was there ever one thing that Jake said that you know, deep down, was not a lie in any way?"
Raine took a bite of her ice cream and thought for a moment. "Yes, actually."
I waited, my spoon poised mid-bite.
"It was one of the very rare arguments you two had that actually ended with a break-up. He called me-"
"He called you?" I raised a brow, not remembering her ever mentioning this at all in the last 6 years.
Raine laughed. "Yes, he called me. I'm your best friend, he was your boyfriend, we had each other's number and we talked quite a bit. So yes, he called me-"
"Why?"
She rolled her eyes at my persistence and smiled. "It was a few days after your break-up, and he called me and asked if you were okay. He was worried about you."
I frowned, trying to place it in context with everything that had happened when Jake was here. Raine vaguely remembered we were still going to youth group, still in high school, so I figured this must have been the first time I was ever dumped. And yes, I clearly remembered Jake (as Tristan) pulling me close and holding me, asking me if I was okay, comforting me as I sobbed moments after he told me he needed some "soul-seeking time" and we couldn't be together. I had been confused as frick. Now I was just finding out he'd been keeping tabs on me, making sure I was doing well despite the pain in my heart.
"So I asked him, I said, 'Jake, can you see yourself growing old with her? Is Mira the one you want to spend the rest of your life with, grow old with.... I mean, if you could choose ANYONE in this world to be with, would you base your decision off Mira?'" Raine sighed and swirled her spoon in her dish. "He was quiet for a while. Then he said, 'If I had my way, I would spend the rest of my life with Mira.'"
I didn't know what to say, so I just stared at her. She went on to tell me about other conversations they had, surprisingly most of them were Jake asking her how our first kiss should be like, how to seduce me, what do I like, etc etc. And even more surprising was that, should her account be accurate (it usually is, to be honest, I've never known her to lie to me in all the 10 years we've known each other), Jake was just as "inexperienced" in the ways of love as I was/am.
"So....Tristan is going back to college this fall," I said after a while.
Raine slowly nodded, her eyes on mine. "Chicago?"
I nodded. "And I've been thinking..."
"That this whole thing seems really familiar and they're going to pull another switch."
Wow. She was good. "The last time all this....this avoidance, this push-Mira-aside attitude, going to Chicago at the last minute [meaning enrolling during the summer]....Jake left and Tristan returned. And this just all seems way too familiar."
Raine nodded. "I'm with you on that one."
"Plus..." I sighed. "Plus, my dreams? The ones I had like crazy when Jake was around that showed him leaving and coming back after two years? That two-year mark is this August. The same time Tristan is going back to college."
We shared a knowing look.
Later that night we went to the bar, and immediately upon entering a guy friend of theirs came up and wished her a happy birthday. She introduced us, asking if we'd ever met.
"No," said Simon, looking me up and down with a huge grin, "but I am sure glad we have now!"
I blushed and thanked him, hurrying to our usual booth. All night he was staring, gazing, and Marshall spoke with him in private for a moment. Then Simon approached, and thus began a realization that I just cannot play the games of men and women, the flirting and promiscuousness. He was a sweet guy, and professed my beauty over and over (seriously, he said things like "you are the most amazingly, drop-dead-gorgeous woman I have seen in my LIFE and my heart is just pounding!") which did boost my ego.
But all I could see in my mind was Jake. All I could feel was the all-too-familiar ache to be with him, to lean on him, to feel him close. To laugh and talk and dream like we used to. And when Simon mentioned that we should just ditch the group and "go get naked", I knew right then and there I could never do that with any man but Jake. I was very kind and explained to Simon that I live by a strict code of honor since I was 12, and he respected that.
Long story short, the night ended with Simon shedding a few tears of frustration and Marshall lecturing me on how I can't keep living a lonely life for a dead guy when I can't find better than who was right in front of me. I looked to Raine for help, who was just as at loss for words as I was. She knows I'm different, that what made Simon so passionate for me that he would cry in a public place was not my doing but genetics, a glamour. And she knows that my heart was taken by Jake a long time ago and is no longer mine to give to just anyone. And through that whole time, I bit my tongue before blurting out that Marshall never met Jake so he couldn't make such claims. Finally I explained to Simon that I am grieving the death of my fiance (a slight stretch, since publicly I've only been engaged to Tristan, but in the technicalities that even Tristan have examined, Jake and I WERE going to be married if we had our way) and live a life that I could not in my loving heart place on him.
He kissed my hand repeatedly, and I was reminded of a knight pining for his queen....Helen of Troy came to mind....and inwardly I groaned. Once I had made a goal to be like Helen and have my own personal guard of men who would protect me at all costs. Wish was granted, and I will regret it for the rest of my life.
Jake, please come home!
6.15.2011
Ode to Women
I've been cooking like crazy every day since getting groceries last week, and needless to say, I've been eating well.
But it came to my attention that my cooking is a replacement for a social life, or lack thereof. Sure, I have plenty of friends, but I also work full-time and when I am available to hang out, my friends usually are not, or visa-versa. What about Tristan, you ask? He tends to go through periods of completely ignoring one friend or another for a few months before making them his new best friend while he ignores someone else. It seems that, right now, I'm the one he's ignoring. It doesn't bother me so much, since I know the pattern, but I still miss hanging out and talking about the weirdness of reality.
Shockingly enough, I got an apology from the one person I'd never expect it from (or at least, sincerely) last night and it did mean a lot. Roxi, as we'll call her, is the one girl who's made my life hell ever since Jake, posing as Tristan, and I started dating so many years ago. Roxi and I were really good friends before meeting "Tristan" and made a pact to never let a man come between us. Well, Tristan and I became close, and then one night we decided to take it a step further. Our friends were all happy for us, except one. Roxi was livid, and spent the following three years trying to drive a wall between Jake and I. Tristan, upon his return from exile, was not up to date on the dramatic rivalry, but even in his friendliness with Roxi at first could not stand her. Long story short, she claims she is over him and he is just her best friend. She even apologized to me for trying to piss me off.
What bothers me still is when she said that she can't go overseas for three years for college, like she has the amazing opportunity to, because "Tristan is [her] BEST friend and [she] just can't leave him for so long!"
If you're over a person, you don't give a flying flip about going away for a long time because in today's modern age, we have something called EMAIL. FACEBOOK. SKYPE. I want to go to Samoa with the Peace Corps, and even though I love Tristan very much, that is not what keeps me here in the States. The ONLY thing keeping me from travelling the world is my sister and baby niece. We're far enough apart as it is, I can't stand the thought of being even further away. Tristan, on the other hand, I would miss dearly but hey, he lives his life and I live mine. And again, modern communications is amazing that way.
I guess I'm just annoyed with women this week. One of my temporary roommates broke up with her amazingly gorgeous, and equally sweet, boyfriend because "he's so effing dumb". I almost slapped her. So what if he doesn't know pinot noir from a Bud Light? If a man loves you, cherishes you, treats you right and swears to stand by your side through hell and back, for pete's sake return the favor! I want to just hug him and tell him he's better off, and possibly get his number and a date..... but he does like sex a lot and being a virgin saving it for marriage, that could pose as a problem. Plus it'd be weird moving in on my roommate's ex, no matter how deserving.
And to add to my off-mood, I am very well aware that outside of a relationship, I am an amazing girlfriend. Actually in a relationship as a girlfriend to the most amazing man on the planet, I'm an absolute bitch.
And I have no effing clue why. *sob*
But it came to my attention that my cooking is a replacement for a social life, or lack thereof. Sure, I have plenty of friends, but I also work full-time and when I am available to hang out, my friends usually are not, or visa-versa. What about Tristan, you ask? He tends to go through periods of completely ignoring one friend or another for a few months before making them his new best friend while he ignores someone else. It seems that, right now, I'm the one he's ignoring. It doesn't bother me so much, since I know the pattern, but I still miss hanging out and talking about the weirdness of reality.
Shockingly enough, I got an apology from the one person I'd never expect it from (or at least, sincerely) last night and it did mean a lot. Roxi, as we'll call her, is the one girl who's made my life hell ever since Jake, posing as Tristan, and I started dating so many years ago. Roxi and I were really good friends before meeting "Tristan" and made a pact to never let a man come between us. Well, Tristan and I became close, and then one night we decided to take it a step further. Our friends were all happy for us, except one. Roxi was livid, and spent the following three years trying to drive a wall between Jake and I. Tristan, upon his return from exile, was not up to date on the dramatic rivalry, but even in his friendliness with Roxi at first could not stand her. Long story short, she claims she is over him and he is just her best friend. She even apologized to me for trying to piss me off.
What bothers me still is when she said that she can't go overseas for three years for college, like she has the amazing opportunity to, because "Tristan is [her] BEST friend and [she] just can't leave him for so long!"
If you're over a person, you don't give a flying flip about going away for a long time because in today's modern age, we have something called EMAIL. FACEBOOK. SKYPE. I want to go to Samoa with the Peace Corps, and even though I love Tristan very much, that is not what keeps me here in the States. The ONLY thing keeping me from travelling the world is my sister and baby niece. We're far enough apart as it is, I can't stand the thought of being even further away. Tristan, on the other hand, I would miss dearly but hey, he lives his life and I live mine. And again, modern communications is amazing that way.
I guess I'm just annoyed with women this week. One of my temporary roommates broke up with her amazingly gorgeous, and equally sweet, boyfriend because "he's so effing dumb". I almost slapped her. So what if he doesn't know pinot noir from a Bud Light? If a man loves you, cherishes you, treats you right and swears to stand by your side through hell and back, for pete's sake return the favor! I want to just hug him and tell him he's better off, and possibly get his number and a date..... but he does like sex a lot and being a virgin saving it for marriage, that could pose as a problem. Plus it'd be weird moving in on my roommate's ex, no matter how deserving.
And to add to my off-mood, I am very well aware that outside of a relationship, I am an amazing girlfriend. Actually in a relationship as a girlfriend to the most amazing man on the planet, I'm an absolute bitch.
And I have no effing clue why. *sob*
6.13.2011
*sigh*
Very few men in this world can make me melt so much as to actually plot ways to meet them. As a kid it was Jesse from Free Willy and the White Ranger, Tommy, from "Power Rangers". As a preteen it was Aaron Carter, as a teenager in high school it varied from Gerard Butler (a strong preference) to....well, okay, it was pretty much just Gerard Butler.
And now, a young woman in the real world of hard knocks and war, I accidentally stumbled upon someone who is, perhaps, the most beautiful man I have ever seen in the most anthropological, spiritual, soulful way.....AFTER, of course, meeting "the twins" Tristan and Jake. I don't know if Tristan counts as the most beautiful man in the world only because he obviously wins by genetic default and that just isn't fair.
Oh, Emmanuel Delcour, you make me want to learn French again just so I can hire you as a private chef for some party I'd throw together as an excuse to stumble and stutter my way through introductions! I greatly admire who you are as a person, and not by career choice (the past is past, no?) but something that I see in your face when I scan through your photos. I don't know if it's my romanticism or extraterrestrial genetics or something beyond even that, but something is grabbing my attention and I am getting that nagging feeling that one day we will cross paths. It's very rare that I've had that feeling and been wrong. But perhaps, since you are a famous reality celebrity in California and I am an otherwise unknown struggling former agent and college student.....peut-etre je trop pense.
*sigh*
And now, a young woman in the real world of hard knocks and war, I accidentally stumbled upon someone who is, perhaps, the most beautiful man I have ever seen in the most anthropological, spiritual, soulful way.....AFTER, of course, meeting "the twins" Tristan and Jake. I don't know if Tristan counts as the most beautiful man in the world only because he obviously wins by genetic default and that just isn't fair.
Oh, Emmanuel Delcour, you make me want to learn French again just so I can hire you as a private chef for some party I'd throw together as an excuse to stumble and stutter my way through introductions! I greatly admire who you are as a person, and not by career choice (the past is past, no?) but something that I see in your face when I scan through your photos. I don't know if it's my romanticism or extraterrestrial genetics or something beyond even that, but something is grabbing my attention and I am getting that nagging feeling that one day we will cross paths. It's very rare that I've had that feeling and been wrong. But perhaps, since you are a famous reality celebrity in California and I am an otherwise unknown struggling former agent and college student.....peut-etre je trop pense.
*sigh*
6.11.2011
Restless
I haven't written in a while because....well, because I'm not sure what to say.
My niece is increasingly beautiful, to the point where total strangers stop and exclaim to my sister how breathtakingly beautiful her daughter is. At only one month of age, the little one is intelligent, emotional, and glows with the newness of our kind. I just haven't found the heart, or opportunity, to talk with my sister about our bloodline. Some part of me wonders if its best for her to think we're all 100% normal, but when we talk and she shares with me her experiences as a mother, I hear familiar clues that she experiences the innate abilities our family shares. The main one is a love for God, a pure, deeply rooted love for Him and His world. For years my sister rebelled against the idea of church and religion, but now that she is in what she calls a "hell-hole" and stuck between a rock and a hard place, her instincts take over and they, to our surprise and utter relief, are completely Christian. Why does this matter? Because with a close relationship with Christ comes an increased "power", and with that a considerably greater amount of self-control. Yes, I could very much throw a man across a room with the flick of a hand, but it's my relationship with God that prevents me from trying. So to hear my young sister describe her defense tactics against the world by using Scripture, and that she sings hymns to her baby because they're the only slow songs she knows, well.....I breathe easier.
I definitely don't sleep easier. Today marks the completion of two full weeks on my own. Two full, long weeks of nothing but work and mere existence. 14 nights of staying up until 3am because nothing can make me fall asleep. I toss and turn on my air mattress, and not because it's uncomfortable.
What's uncomfortable is the reason why I can't sleep. I battle the thoughts in my mind with every ounce of self-defense and preservation I have, and the response I get is, "who do you think you're kidding?" I'm tempted to use up the last of my current money to stock up on a fair amount of alcohol to take the edge off the insomnia and maybe, if I have to drink myself into oblivion just for a decent night's sleep.... This is ridiculous. I have a gym, I have a tanning bed, and a pool, and a hot tub, my own room, free internet, free cable, all of which I utilize on a regular basis. And yet I look in the mirror and see dark circles under my eyes, each day making them that much darker and bigger. No amount of makeup can cover them. Every day I look in the mirror and see a bedraggled woman aging considerably fast for only two weeks of total independence.
I'm going to try to sleep now. I've worn myself out enough that it just might be possible, and yes, it is nearly 3am. I will rise at 9am with or without an alarm, a habit that developed when Tristan and I were living together. When....well, to be perfectly honest, when I could fall asleep at 10pm within 5 minutes of laying down.
My niece is increasingly beautiful, to the point where total strangers stop and exclaim to my sister how breathtakingly beautiful her daughter is. At only one month of age, the little one is intelligent, emotional, and glows with the newness of our kind. I just haven't found the heart, or opportunity, to talk with my sister about our bloodline. Some part of me wonders if its best for her to think we're all 100% normal, but when we talk and she shares with me her experiences as a mother, I hear familiar clues that she experiences the innate abilities our family shares. The main one is a love for God, a pure, deeply rooted love for Him and His world. For years my sister rebelled against the idea of church and religion, but now that she is in what she calls a "hell-hole" and stuck between a rock and a hard place, her instincts take over and they, to our surprise and utter relief, are completely Christian. Why does this matter? Because with a close relationship with Christ comes an increased "power", and with that a considerably greater amount of self-control. Yes, I could very much throw a man across a room with the flick of a hand, but it's my relationship with God that prevents me from trying. So to hear my young sister describe her defense tactics against the world by using Scripture, and that she sings hymns to her baby because they're the only slow songs she knows, well.....I breathe easier.
I definitely don't sleep easier. Today marks the completion of two full weeks on my own. Two full, long weeks of nothing but work and mere existence. 14 nights of staying up until 3am because nothing can make me fall asleep. I toss and turn on my air mattress, and not because it's uncomfortable.
What's uncomfortable is the reason why I can't sleep. I battle the thoughts in my mind with every ounce of self-defense and preservation I have, and the response I get is, "who do you think you're kidding?" I'm tempted to use up the last of my current money to stock up on a fair amount of alcohol to take the edge off the insomnia and maybe, if I have to drink myself into oblivion just for a decent night's sleep.... This is ridiculous. I have a gym, I have a tanning bed, and a pool, and a hot tub, my own room, free internet, free cable, all of which I utilize on a regular basis. And yet I look in the mirror and see dark circles under my eyes, each day making them that much darker and bigger. No amount of makeup can cover them. Every day I look in the mirror and see a bedraggled woman aging considerably fast for only two weeks of total independence.
I'm going to try to sleep now. I've worn myself out enough that it just might be possible, and yes, it is nearly 3am. I will rise at 9am with or without an alarm, a habit that developed when Tristan and I were living together. When....well, to be perfectly honest, when I could fall asleep at 10pm within 5 minutes of laying down.
6.04.2011
Jake
Every now and then I'll meet someone who is in a similar unit, or is like us biologically. The frustrating part is, I'm never able to tell either one about the other. I'm always hiding.
My new friend Diego I met quite by accident, and I was skeptical when he said he was military and with a corps that is nearly identical to the Organization. But, upon further research into his claims, I've found nothing but evidence to support it. And he knew exactly who I was talking about when I merely hinted at the broader term for the Organization.
He's doing what he can to help me find Jake. *sigh* Jake, Jake, Jake.... No one believes he's dead. Not even Tristan, who after a good year of consideration over the matter has decided that yes, the whole "he died of an illness the day you sent the letter and we cremated him and scattered his ashes over the place outside Tristan's home all within a 24-hour period" is a bunch of bullshit. Even civilians who have heard the tale via random storytelling coughed "bullshit!" and stand by the theory that it's just a cover-up. Nicks hasn't confirmed nor denied anything, but he did say it's quite possible, or he really is dead and we're just bad at keeping records.
With the strong internal feeling that he is alive, I feel like a horrible person, woman I should say, for playing merry-go-round with my love life. Jake-Tristan-Jake-Tristan. But I talked with my best friend, who knows about us, and she helped me clarify a few things. She has what she calls a "bullshit-meter" which has been accurate since before I met her.
"Hon, I hate to say it, but when Tristan told me he had feelings for you, my bullshit-meter went off the charts," Lydia told me yesterday.
"Yeah, I believe it." I sighed, knowing that a part of me will always love Tristan, just not in the same sense as I'd always thought. "What about Jake?"
She smiled. "Not once did the bullshit-meter go off. The way he looked at you, acted around you.... He really did love you." Lydia blushed a bit and laughed. "I mean, I would flirt with him just to throw him off, I wanted to know how loyal he was, and when I'd hit on him he'd push me away and go, 'I'm your best friend's boyfriend! What's wrong with you?!' And I knew right then he was good for you."
I sighed and nodded, that horrible second-human ache in my chest growing more painful at the memories flashing in my mind. "Do you think love is something that can be faked? For the sake of hiding?"
Lydia furrowed her brow for a moment. "Tristan tried, I mean, he faked it and you know, you could tell. I could tell. But Jake, he was pretending to be someone else but there's no way anyone could pretend the way he was around you. You can't fake real love."
As she was leaving and I walked her to her car, a nagging question tugged at my mind and I leaned in the window. "Lydia, can I ask you something?"
She smiled at me and patted her swollen pregnant belly. "Sure, hon!"
"Do you think.....Did Jake mention the whole 'we're getting married' thing for the sake of being Tristan? Or do you think-"
I didn't have to finish the question, for Lydia's head was shaking furiously. "No," she firmly said with a knowing smile. "You want my honest opinion? Jake should never have left. You were good for each other. And no, he wanted to get married as himself and not as Tristan."
She drove away and I rubbed my head. My life is effed up. I'm a horrible person for being unable to control my own emotions, let alone determine someone else's. Yes, Tristan and I will always have a special bond with each other because, let's face it, we're of the same species and we balance each other out in the face of adversity. The horrible thing is, being around him, looking at him, my mind and body uses a stored recognition of Jake that I constantly have to fight. I'm constantly looking for physical differences so I don't get subconsciously confused, and it still happens. I see an angle, I catch a whiff of a familiar scent, and somehow my body suddenly registers everything as Jake. Like, I forget that Tristan is more negative, difficult, unsympathetic, virtually unemotional....and I expect him to be outwardly compassionate, empathic, optimistic, affectionate.
Being away from Tristan helps my mind clear itself of the confusion and easily separates the two. Yes, I am still very annoyed that he's been spending so much time with a certain young woman who has driven me up the wall with her greedy drama for 5+ years, but only because I didn't struggle all those years against her to establish that Jake/Tristan was "my territory" (she has no concept of boundaries) only to have Tristan hand it all to her on a silver platter. But whatever. Props to him for being her friend.
Lydia told me she can't believe that anyone who loved me as much as Jake did could be in the area and truly resist contacting me. I hesitate to claim Jake loved me because, sorry, I clearly remember the last year of him being here and it was mostly "I love Tristan's ex" which, as I predicted, resulted in disaster. But, as Tristan pointed out, there were three "Tristans" and Jake was just one of them. Any of the other two could have been the one who wanted to be with said ex, as we know one definitely had a thing for a classmate.
And there's the matter of my dreams/visions. I had soooooo many before, during and after of Jake (we now know it was Jake I saw instead of Tristan due to the specific features that were his only, and his personality, voice, etc are all purely Jake and not Tristan) leaving for two years and returning to me. In all of them I was either taking care of our baby (dream-baby, not real!) or had just given birth, and Jake told me with a choked-up voice that he has to leave for a while, but he will be back. And after two years he would return, saving us from an attack on our home or me by dark shadows and men in black. Then he would hold me and our baby close and swear he'd never ever leave again.
This fall is the two-year mark of his departure.
My new friend Diego I met quite by accident, and I was skeptical when he said he was military and with a corps that is nearly identical to the Organization. But, upon further research into his claims, I've found nothing but evidence to support it. And he knew exactly who I was talking about when I merely hinted at the broader term for the Organization.
He's doing what he can to help me find Jake. *sigh* Jake, Jake, Jake.... No one believes he's dead. Not even Tristan, who after a good year of consideration over the matter has decided that yes, the whole "he died of an illness the day you sent the letter and we cremated him and scattered his ashes over the place outside Tristan's home all within a 24-hour period" is a bunch of bullshit. Even civilians who have heard the tale via random storytelling coughed "bullshit!" and stand by the theory that it's just a cover-up. Nicks hasn't confirmed nor denied anything, but he did say it's quite possible, or he really is dead and we're just bad at keeping records.
With the strong internal feeling that he is alive, I feel like a horrible person, woman I should say, for playing merry-go-round with my love life. Jake-Tristan-Jake-Tristan. But I talked with my best friend, who knows about us, and she helped me clarify a few things. She has what she calls a "bullshit-meter" which has been accurate since before I met her.
"Hon, I hate to say it, but when Tristan told me he had feelings for you, my bullshit-meter went off the charts," Lydia told me yesterday.
"Yeah, I believe it." I sighed, knowing that a part of me will always love Tristan, just not in the same sense as I'd always thought. "What about Jake?"
She smiled. "Not once did the bullshit-meter go off. The way he looked at you, acted around you.... He really did love you." Lydia blushed a bit and laughed. "I mean, I would flirt with him just to throw him off, I wanted to know how loyal he was, and when I'd hit on him he'd push me away and go, 'I'm your best friend's boyfriend! What's wrong with you?!' And I knew right then he was good for you."
I sighed and nodded, that horrible second-human ache in my chest growing more painful at the memories flashing in my mind. "Do you think love is something that can be faked? For the sake of hiding?"
Lydia furrowed her brow for a moment. "Tristan tried, I mean, he faked it and you know, you could tell. I could tell. But Jake, he was pretending to be someone else but there's no way anyone could pretend the way he was around you. You can't fake real love."
As she was leaving and I walked her to her car, a nagging question tugged at my mind and I leaned in the window. "Lydia, can I ask you something?"
She smiled at me and patted her swollen pregnant belly. "Sure, hon!"
"Do you think.....Did Jake mention the whole 'we're getting married' thing for the sake of being Tristan? Or do you think-"
I didn't have to finish the question, for Lydia's head was shaking furiously. "No," she firmly said with a knowing smile. "You want my honest opinion? Jake should never have left. You were good for each other. And no, he wanted to get married as himself and not as Tristan."
She drove away and I rubbed my head. My life is effed up. I'm a horrible person for being unable to control my own emotions, let alone determine someone else's. Yes, Tristan and I will always have a special bond with each other because, let's face it, we're of the same species and we balance each other out in the face of adversity. The horrible thing is, being around him, looking at him, my mind and body uses a stored recognition of Jake that I constantly have to fight. I'm constantly looking for physical differences so I don't get subconsciously confused, and it still happens. I see an angle, I catch a whiff of a familiar scent, and somehow my body suddenly registers everything as Jake. Like, I forget that Tristan is more negative, difficult, unsympathetic, virtually unemotional....and I expect him to be outwardly compassionate, empathic, optimistic, affectionate.
Being away from Tristan helps my mind clear itself of the confusion and easily separates the two. Yes, I am still very annoyed that he's been spending so much time with a certain young woman who has driven me up the wall with her greedy drama for 5+ years, but only because I didn't struggle all those years against her to establish that Jake/Tristan was "my territory" (she has no concept of boundaries) only to have Tristan hand it all to her on a silver platter. But whatever. Props to him for being her friend.
Lydia told me she can't believe that anyone who loved me as much as Jake did could be in the area and truly resist contacting me. I hesitate to claim Jake loved me because, sorry, I clearly remember the last year of him being here and it was mostly "I love Tristan's ex" which, as I predicted, resulted in disaster. But, as Tristan pointed out, there were three "Tristans" and Jake was just one of them. Any of the other two could have been the one who wanted to be with said ex, as we know one definitely had a thing for a classmate.
And there's the matter of my dreams/visions. I had soooooo many before, during and after of Jake (we now know it was Jake I saw instead of Tristan due to the specific features that were his only, and his personality, voice, etc are all purely Jake and not Tristan) leaving for two years and returning to me. In all of them I was either taking care of our baby (dream-baby, not real!) or had just given birth, and Jake told me with a choked-up voice that he has to leave for a while, but he will be back. And after two years he would return, saving us from an attack on our home or me by dark shadows and men in black. Then he would hold me and our baby close and swear he'd never ever leave again.
This fall is the two-year mark of his departure.
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