A female friend of mine texted me a few days ago, and I had to tell her that my new owner has forbidden me to have contact with her, even though we are just friends. "No other women in my life" is what I was told. Possessiveness is an integral part of female nature, and this request by my owner was a sign of affection. My owner is special to me, and its only right that she wants to be the only woman in her life.
My friend and I had dated a few years ago, and we stayed friends after we broke up. She was the only "vanilla" girlfriend I have ever had that wasn’t abusive, but by the time I met her, I was already too far gone. After some time, I revealed my secret to her, although I didn’t go into any detail, content to let her fill in the blanks with her own assumptions. But I felt she deserved to at least know something.
After that text exchange, she immediately called me. She was understandably upset. How could I do this? She yelled at me. She said it was "really fucked up." She has no idea how true that statement is. She reminded me that I had assured her in the past that we would be "friends forever." If I never talk to her again, how can that be true? I don’t like breaking promises, and I don’t like hurting people, and here I was, doing both to someone I care about.
She started crying, and her expression of pain made me cry. She asked if she could text me once a month, just to check in and make sure I am OK. I told her the truth: I’m not going to be OK. I have never been OK. I will never be OK. Admitting this to her made me cry even harder.
I told her that I needed to do this. I am searching for something, something that may not even exist, and time is running out for me to find it.
She kept trying to assure me that I was not a bad person, that what I want is simply what I want, that everybody has preferences, etc. But I told her that she doesn’t really know me at all, although she thinks she does. She has no idea what is in my mind. Its not OK. She begged me to tell her more, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have the energy to try to make sense of this thing for her, a thing that doesn’t even make sense to me. And I didn’t want her to see me in that way. I wanted her to remember the good times we shared, and not have that clouded with the knowledge of what a monster I really am.
It has always seemed strange to me that people can be so close at one time, and so distant in another, even hating each other. How can these two things both be true? I sensed that she was thinking the same thing. But that seems to be life: everything has a beginning, and that means that everything must also have an ending. Beginnings are exciting, fun, joyous. Endings never are. And the cruel joke of life is that the better something is, the worse the ending will be. That just seems to be how life works. And it can’t be escaped.
I often think of my grandparents, who had the best relationship I have ever seen, and perhaps the only good relationship I have ever seen. They were always together, did everything together, inseparable, clearly in love. In retirement, they built their dream home together, in a remote location even for our small town. A place where they could be alone together. Then, after a few short years, my grandmother died of cancer. After, I can only imagine that that home that was their dream must have seemed like a cruel prison for my grandfather. The last decade of his life must have been unimaginable hell, living in exile from the rest of the world, that house constantly mocking him.
We are all born alone and we all die alone. And soon, everyone who has ever known us will die too, so that even our memory is lost. Within a few generations, we are completely forgotten, replaced in life by new generations who will live in our homes and walk on our streets, go to jobs in our place. We have no power to change this. This is just how life is meant to be lived.
Pain is what love feels like. Simply to live is to suffer until death sets us free.