Angel of History

l am alone as I ever was. I am a lover. I have always said that communication is the most important thing in a relationship; not because it brings understanding, but because it invents new solutions for the everyday misunderstandings. It has been almost three weeks and there has been very little communication. However, there was that one phone call, and, it reminded me that we can communicate: after three hours I put down the phone with the belief that you were coming back to me, and that we understood each other.

Today you communicate by leaving breadcrumbs. There is no dialogue. There is only the wall, le mur, l’amour. You do not communicate with me because you know that we would resolve the problems and renew our love. And you need protection against that vulnerability. So you block me, and you surround yourself with people who want you to block me out of your life. Against vulnerability, leaps of faith, you have walls and strength. Strength against vulnerability.

You say that actions speak louder than words. Well, if only that were true! It was through my actions that new words had to be invented. It was through our relationship that new words had to be invented. I converted to Islam. Why? I will say what I say, but people will always demand a better answer. I united with members of the Mosque and dozens of locals on an emergency mission to win you back. I suffered, I sacrificed, and, for the longest time, I did it alone. Throughout our relationship – actions spoke louder than words. Each and every item is a testimony of my love for you.

Now you are silent and the days keep passing. You let them pass because another day means that it will get easier for you, you will sleep better, you will wake better, and you will be capable of moving on without me. Each and every day I have made an effort to reach out to you. You have made an effort to flee from me. My actions are just as explainable as yours – they came out of great torment and suffering – but perhaps they were not as cruel and hurtful as yours. Yet, I am the forgiving one. Your actions have nearly cost me my life, endlessly. Two nights in a hospital. Vomit surrounding the walkways of our apartment. Endless nights sleeping under trees outside (thinking you might show up to our spots). 25 pounds lost from lack of diet. The endless panic attacks. The memories that stand like tombstones around me.

You leave breadcrumbs because, like the guy to the girl I met crying at one of our spots yesterday, you want to leave me but you also want the comfort of knowing that I still love you until you can fully push through to your so-called new world and future.

You told me nothing would separate us. I never believed you would disappear and never return again. I had every faith in us and in our relationship. We smiled more than anybody ought to smile. I thought we were worth communicating about. I thought I was worth something to you. I’ve been abandoned, entirely. My only point of communication is now with your father and he does not want to talk to me. He speaks in place of you, for you, and he tells me what you are thinking and how I need to act.

Without communication, there is no love. There is only the comfort of thinking your own thoughts, dreaming your own dreams, and living your own life. That is the comfort of the child. The adult is the one who wants to share those thoughts, dreams, and life with another – despite the obstacles, despite the minor things that happen in any relationship.

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One thought on “Angel of History

  1. when i was a kid i once completely shut down communication with my best friend at the time because we started to get into a ‘relationship’ and it made me uncomfortable due to the social situation i was in—people around me were in general very intolerant. one day i just changed my seat in school and never talked to him again. it was actually pretty painful. but i had sort of gone through this several time before—-both of my first little girlfriends dissapeared in one instant from my life —one moved away, and one changed schools (to a safer more affluent one, since mine were too dangerous). after that i pretty much assumed thats the way the world is—easy come, easy go, and maybe one shouldnt get attached to anyone or anything (same with jobs, money, a place to stay, your projects—for me science, writing and music, colllecting a few souvenirs—-you wake up one day and everything you’ve created , your tools—instruments and computer, you’re money , and found is gone —squandered or sold at a pawn shop. i used to sell my guitar when i was broke even though it was my way of making money. just said f-k it. i’d save alot of money for ‘big plans’—get some instruments, a computer, a smart phone—but then one day jsut squander it and give it away. also i had some pretty good jobs and places to stay, but in a moment of confusion or due to problems like wanting to be in N places at the same time which happen to be from 1 to 3000 miles apart from each other , or doing N things at the same time—write a paper, or a book, or a song, or practice math or music, or go on a hike for a day or a few months—i’d just get up and leave all that behind. ‘i’ll work on these projects later since i’m tired of them, and go up to the mountains’. I also did a whoole lot of hiking, carrying sleeping bags, tents, food, clothes, books, etc. I might find some wild food, and maybe even if it was winter it would be a warm day, and i hated carrying all that stuff so i’d hide and abandon—i figured i didnt need it and i would pick it up on the way back—eg i’d leave it on the california border with mexico and go maybe 700 miles south and back (typically with a total budget of between 20 and 220 dollars. The 220 would go to 20 in about a week since i’d get robbed–i kept one 20 hidden in my shoes. . . . . I’d often have alot of free time since i was basically i9’d be a vagabond, but i wanted to uase it to practice, get in shape and such, and what would happen instead firends would decide they wanted me to be their personal therapist and spend all my time listening to them bitch about their sorry life and bad habits. This was actually like ‘blocking’ communication or censorship—sometime it seemed their ob ject was not so much personal therapy rather than to drag me down to gutter level since they didnt have any interesting projects—they would never collaborate on anything (even if they at one time were musicians, hikers or mathematics people)—the only tjhing’d they help wiith is doing things like do an errand such as go out and get dope so i didnt have to even if told them i didnt want any —though since working on my projects were blocked i’d get into their lifestyle due to a seeming lack of other opportunites. Its like you are cornered in a cage. (i think alot of abusive domestic relationships are a bit like this—options i thought good like my projectse often were totally discouraged (alot of my musical gigs have been shut down by the management of the places since they decided tmy stuff made them uncomfortable—all they seem to like is Muzak or advertizing jingles). Rather than read a science book or talk about it, instead people want you to convert to their boring garbage set of religious beliefs, or will turn on a TV to watch a game. the world seems to be like one big crab bucket. u have to be fairly ruthless or lucky to get out of it. Of course alot of people prosper from a world where most people live in crab buckets—thery’ll sell their second rate music and shallow books to you, get you addicted to drugs, tithing at their churches so a few people can afford bic cars and mansions, buying junk food and obesity treatments, acting intolerant and ignorant so you or the people around you need to go pay a therapist so they have a nice living, going to sports events to fund millionaires. capitalism or this world in general may be natural. As a sort of student of the media, much of what is on there is basically noise used to drown out any interesting or beautiful signals. . But one person’s noise is another’s signal.

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