Since this has gone into diary mode, I should mention I’m very happy with my girl. It’s all just so comfortable. I filmed her yesterday and watching her on my ipod I feel like it’s a female actor playing my parts.
It feels right. It feels “healthy” too, in a way my relationships with borderline women (all my previous relationships have been with borderline women) never were. I don’t need her to be happy. She doesn’t need me to be happy. I really like her. She really likes me. It’s just as simple as that. No expectations, no anxiety, no fear, no suffering.
Happiness. It feels “healthy” because it feels like stuff will still be effortlessly good when the early-relationship passion cools off.
Nah, I don’t mean the red pill stuff, or the associated political analogy. I have derealization and depersonalization symptoms. They’re mostly flashes, but sometimes a really hard crisis happens. It’s even often really pleasurable, as an amorphous wave of pleasure. Once in a while, it’s some specific, disturbing fantasy that feels wonderfully perverse at the moment. Like the time I first heard “Luscious Apparatus”, being by my own in the dark waiting for the bus — I felt I could actually carve poems into my body since it wasn’t really my body and its skin was thick enough I could carve it out without bleeding.
I have strong memories of that particular crisis whenever I listen to that song, and even really mild DR/DP flashbacks. And that was a pleasurable one, but DR/DP can be terrifying, and I had a really strong case of the bad ones this tuesday.
I was just leaving home for work. Having missed my bus, I had to walk for ten minutes to get to the bus that takes you to the subway. And then I lost most of my sense of context — I had a very very thin string tying me to my sense of self and didn’t know where the hell I was. All I knew was that I had to walk for ten minutes and get into the bus that takes you to the subway to get to work, so I did that in an automatic sort of way while I tried to get my sense of self back, trying to find music on my iPod that would remind me first of my childhood, then late teens and early 20s. And even when I had a clear picture of who I was, I didn’t feel like I was who I was. Thirty or fourty minutes had already passed, I was already on the bus and knew how to get to my workplace, and still I didn’t recognize anything or felt like I knew who I was.
