Rejection

I keep telling myself a story, using various women, in which I do everything right but am still left, feeling somehow at fault and unable to prevent or repair the loss.

In which I realize some things about how I’m crazy, revisiting ancient wounds of loss.

Cleo dumped me.

In which a woman disappears on me. As so many have done. Am I wired to make women disappear?

She says she’s easy to project onto, and project onto her, I did….

Meditating helps. The addict’s mind in the face of pain and loss….

Poor decision-making on my part.

Like a moth, I fly toward, rather than away from, a whole host of flames: the flame of jealousy, the flame of rejection, the flame of abandonment, the flame of disappointment. Here’s a little vignette: Charlotte and I have been…

Fumbling our way forward, Charlotte and I….

In which I’m stood up by a woman I’ve yet to meet.