Hangups

I debated on starting a new blog, separate from this one, mostly because I have zero contact with "Tristan".

We'll get to the reason for quotations later.....

I was enjoying my freedom.  I really was.  One Saturday night I ran into a guy I'd met four years ago at my 19th birthday party who I had a crush on then, but thought he was my best friend's boyfriend.  He wasn't, but I didn't know until after they eventually did become a couple.  But four years later, both of us are single and we quickly discovered we have a LOT in common.  More than the average people.  And it was incredibly fantastic to finally meet someone who is just like me and not directly tied to the shadow government.

Michael was the only one who showed up for my birthday celebration, which was okay given that it was an impromptu meet-up at the bar.  We talked, shared a pitcher of beer, and then he realized I hadn't said a word about my birthday to the bartender.  After shouting for a free shot, he insisted that we go around to the bars in the city and get my fill of free birthday shots, beer and music.  We sang, we danced, we drank, we opened up to each other about who we are and who we want to be, what we dream of, what we fear...and he totally played up the fact that I was being escorted by an extremely handsome man.  Because of our "skills" he was able to know exactly what I wanted when I wanted it and made sure everyone treated me like a queen, including him. I felt alive.  I felt amazing.

I felt free.

I stumbled into the doorway around 3am to find my stepfather leaning against the kitchen counter.

"For some reason, I had to come up and tell you this," he said.  "Don't let it happen again."

Reality sobered me up even more than the earlier events that brought me home so late.  I know he couldn't know about.....stuff....but God always knows.  And apparently God was none too thrilled, even though I had prayed for Him to just let me have this one night of freedom.  "What?"

"I mean more like, don't make the same mistakes again.  Just protect yourself."  With that, he shuffled back downstairs to his room with my mother.

Protect myself.  Right.  Because that's what I really want: a life of isolation and desolation just so no one can hurt me.  Michael and I have a profound understanding of each other and I know he isn't "in it to win it" so to speak.  I know he loves being single and a lone wolf while he harbors a deep pain from his past betrayals.  He knows that I yearn for moments of freedom far away from what supposedly is my destiny while deep down continuously grieving, always in pain, always sobbing inside my heart while raising an outer shield of strength and indifference.

I decided to check my Facebook for any birthday wishes from friends and family, of which there were many, but one thing caught my eye.  A message from Tristan.

"Found this.  I think it's from Jake."

I clicked the link.  And I cried.



My Dear,

If you are reading this it means that they have taken me away. The reasons don't really matter anymore the fact is that it happened and, well, I've foreseen this coming for a long time. Your knowledge of this blog was to be kept under the strictest of confidence until such a time as this. I hope it didn't take you long to get here. I really didn't mean for it to be tricky if it was. Thought I'd try and make you laugh...

Reasons. We all have them and even though we fail to understand them sometimes, they are inevitable. Thus there is a reason I am doing this; having you search through things, journey back to cob webbed covered parts of your brain in order to find a discovery. First off I have to tell you that you were right, I was wrong. There it's in writing for all to see. You did the right thing in having me taken away. Although sometimes I truly believe that you don't know what's best for me, a sliver of hope remains a says, "yeah, she does."

I know you must be doubting yourself, your choices, your reasons and I'll bet my left nut you called some one to talk to them before reading this. You did the right thing.

What ever happens in the near or distant future just know that I'm lying there, my arm wrapped around you, holding you while you sleep.

I'm afraid we've come to the point where my reason for writing this must be stated. Mira, I'm not sure if when I get out and when I get back if I'm going to be the same person. Of course I'll be changed but I'm not sure it's going to be in the ways we want it necessarily. I have it on good word that part of me is going to die in there and I'll never get him back.

He always knew when and how he was going to go and he tried telling me, he really did! But I wouldn't listen. Everything has happened exactly as he said it would which is why I knew I had to write this.

So you know my reason but not really the intention behind the reason. I'm afraid this is good bye Mira. Not as in good bye, I'm never seeing you again. I mean good bye the part of me that I though stood a chance to be happy with you has died; expired. But you know what? It's ok if I die. He said he didn't want me to go with him but that he couldn't stop me. How could I live my life separate from him? The Tristan that knew is no longer here. He left the building...

I checked the date on the post, and it was from May 2010. One month before his contact told us that he was dead, surrendered to an illness he contracted overseas (if I remember correctly, India). Why now? Why did I have to get this now? A deeper part of me, maybe it was God, said that I needed to be reminded of who I am, who I love, what we're all fighting for. That deeper part of me scolded profusely, urgently telling me that we did not suffer and bleed and sacrifice, that he did not sacrifice, so I could go have drunken sex in some field with some random Seer and forget about everything.

A lady doesn't kiss and tell, and I definitely am not publishing the details of my birthday "romp", but I will say this: it opened my eyes to a lot. Not even sexually. The incredible ability to completely pierce through every possible barrier within his mind, and he's had years of practice building those barriers, rocked me to the core and I, like an idiot, told him exactly what I saw. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the complete lack of inhibition brought on by hormones and nerve endings. Whatever it was, it was mind-blowing and I barreled through every solid wall like I was reading a paperback dime novel.

Needless to say, Michael was not happy. I had just stabbed straight into the deepest core of his entire being with perfect accuracy, and it rocked him in the not-so-wonderful way. What would have been hours of passion ended rather abruptly after 10 minutes. Out of respect for male pride, I will not continue this particular story. Let's just say we have a new respect for each other and have remained good friends.

So I come home from this to be given a warning from God's mouth to my stepfather's, then "Tristan" emails me a two year-old letter from Jake confirming the long-suspected love he had for me and the fact that I have successfully ruined my reputation as "untouchable" sank in my stomach like a stone.

Here's the thing. After yet again grieving the loss of the one man who actually legitimately loved me unconditionally, I have to come to grips with the fact that even he gave up on us. And if he is alive, and checking in on my like my mother strongly suspects, then I have just one thing to ask: Why the hell have you not come back???? If you love me so much, why won't you at least let me know you're alive and still want me??? Do you have any idea how differently I would live my life if I had even just that??????? Okay so that's three questions, but they're legit. Not a single day goes by without Jake on my mind, no matter where or what I'm doing. Not. A. Day.

But then there's the possibility that he's actually dead. And I find it difficult to "save" myself for someone who may be a trail of ashes somewhere in the eastern wind. Let's not forget how I almost married a montage of "Tristans". Man, do I feel dirty. And kinda duh. In the back of my mind, I knew it all along. I just told myself I have to stop "listening" and "seeing" and just take things as they are because using my abilities to discern everything in life was driving me insane because EVERYONE LIES. But of course, I wasn't exactly planning on....okay maybe I was. Maybe, somewhere deep inside me, I just wanted to get rid of the "Virgin Gift" so the price on my head would decrease considerably and no one would be tempted to rape me. So maybe I told a certain person who I know for a fact cannot keep a fucking secret from "Tristan" if her life depended on it about this "gift", expecting what did actually happen. It was what, three days? Three days and he was rolling me onto the bed, eager for that legendary gift the women of my kind possess in their chastity.

Joke's on him. He didn't get it. I kinda figured out later on that there's a few catches to the process and so I might still have that all-important gift in me.

I'm not stupid. I was just....lonely. And I did fall in love with whoever the hell did most of the "acting" a little, at least enough to say that I hold a deep affection for Tristan and always will. But I'm no idiot, and we are not playing that game again. Mom had strong, super strong suspicions because unlike me, she was perfectly okay with using her abilities to gauge this individual who may have actually been more than one individual. I feel gross. I also have a new-found appreciation for Jake's "no kissing" rule he'd instilled rather strongly in his fellow men when dealing with me.

Ugh, this is why I like Michael. So he has a rocky past. At least he doesn't have 50 million other people living his exact life and using the people he loves for their own selfish gains. Like I said before, we're just friends. And part of me wonders if he keeps it that way because he, too, saw into the deepest core of my being and respects my own hangups.

I decided to still write in this blog because it says "The Goran Prince", not "Tristan's Life". For all we know, Tristan, "Tristan", whoever this dude or dudes is/are, is not/are not actually the Goran Prince. Maybe it was really Jake all along. Maybe it's actually Michael. Or maybe he is out there, waiting, reading this blog and wondering who the hell I am and why they allow an insane woman to blog all this fantastical shit. Why do "they" let me do this? Because it's a good read, it's far too much for an average person to accept as fact, and because I do keep it as anonymous as possible to protect the innocent and semi-innocent. Mainly I think it's because they find it entertaining. I could totally see CO having a chuckle over this if he were still alive.

"This always reminds me of you and me."

I never quite understood what Tristan meant whenever he said that, which was every time we watched Blood Diamond.

Now I get it.  And it only makes me sadder.

I remember sitting in the hospital room with him, fighting back every tear that threatened to fall after reading the letter he wrote to end our engagement.  Logic, I chanted over and over in my mind.  Logic and reason. Keep it cool and just use logic and reason.  "So what do you want?"  I asked, my voice a lot clearer and calmer than I expected.  "Do you want me to walk out of your life forever?  No contact?  I can do that."  In the back of my mind I almost preferred it.  I'm good at running.

"No!"  Tristan sat up straighter, a look of.....panic? on his face and he took my hand in his.  "I want you by my side through this!  I need you with me!"

"So what, you want me to act like your girlfriend/fiance/wife but you're stripping me of the titles and honors?  It doesn't work like that!"  To tell the truth, I was just confused as freaking hell.  None of this made any sense.  And all I wanted to do was run from it, run from the pain and humiliation and just.....forget.

Work scheduling did not let me visit him as often as I usually would, and a part of me was grateful for it.  Mom insisted I approach all this logically, and to set aside emotion.  So when I did finally visit him, I sat beside him in the little grove outside without saying much.  The thing is, when you know someone as well as we know each other, especially after sharing virtually every aspects of our beings together, it's that much harder to hide anything.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Tristan said as he basked in the warm sun, "before I smother you with a pillow."

Oh geez, where to start.  Knowing him, getting to the point, and bluntly, was usually what he wanted.  "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on."  The corner of his mouth twitched.

"I mean, what's going on....out there....that you haven't been telling me?"

Now his face fought the grin that threatened to give it all away.  "Nothing's going on!"

"Oh right.  Like I believe that.  You know you can't lie to me."

Famous last words.

I didn't see him after that, mainly because I didn't know if I'd be able to stomach any more plutonic visits when I felt like dry-heaving from the pain.  From what I could gather from our mutual friends who did see him, Tristan never asked for me or remarked on my absence.  The pain sunk in deeper.  Most of the time, when able to, I just curled up in a ball and tried to wish my way into another universe, one so very far away from the pain.

Then one night, while watching some show about monkeys in India with my parents, Tristan called my cell phone.  He wanted to let me know that he was going to be released from the hospital the next day, and that he may be going away for a while for treatment.  I didn't know what to say.  Really, what I could say.  What I wanted to tell him was how much I loved him and missed him, how much I ached just to see him again so we could figure this out, so we could be together.  Instead I thanked him for keeping me updated, mentioned that we should hang out sometime soon before he left for his treatment, and we said our cordial good-byes.

That was the last time I heard from him, at all.  It was May.  Now it's July.

I have tried to drown it all out with anything I can.  Nothing works.  My talks with the bow hunter leave me feeling sick deep down in my stomach.  The mere thought of any potential "dalliances" make my mouth taste like ash.  And I am constantly haunted by dreams and visions chanting to me that he will be back, that he will return, and this is something far more than what it seems.

"So, before we go, tell me why you love each other."  The pastor we chose for our premarital counseling sessions smiled at us and motioned to Tristan.  "What about you, Tristan?  Why do you love Mira?"


I was expecting something like how I make epic cookies, or how I'm quirky and weird but that's okay, or something along the lines.  


"Because she reminds me that there's still good in this world."  Tristan's eyes got that far-off look for a moment, and in my own mind I saw all the worlds he's traveled, and all the darkness and pain he's endured.  "She fills my life with so much light, and so much love.  I see her, and I remember that life is still worth living."


The pastor smiled more and nodded, then turned to me.  "And you, Mira?  Why do you love Tristan?"


How could I put into words what is so difficult to explain?  "Because....because he's good.  Not just a good guy, but deeply, inherently good.  After seeing so many men, having so many men in my life betray and abandon me, to cause so much destruction....."  In my mind I saw my father, distant and cold as he walked away right after telling me not to call him "Daddy" anymore.  I saw every face of every man who every abandoned me, and that was every single one except my grandfather, flash in my mind as I tried to piece together a decent explanation.  "And he's still here.  Tristan's still here, by my side, even after going through so much crap in life.  He's the one man I know I can trust with my heart."


It's been almost two months, and I'm beginning to eat my words.  No matter how many dreams and visions yell at me to hang on, the fact that Tristan won't even say hi to me is an eternal knife in my heart and lungs.