Tj says my mysticism goes upward with my distress in a relation he could write a math equation for if he knew how. He's right. I believe unreasonably in signs and reasons for everything, lessons I squint to comprehend, all that (which might be crap, I don't know). That child is sleeping at my feet right now, stung to near shock

by wasps the Witch says I'm summoning in pain relentlessly. Five exterminator visits later, poison dust lays everywhere

and still they come, now into the house, chasing us like Amityville. I will have the walls gassed next week through drilled holes...but if it is me, what good will that do?

Meanwhile Aaron's car, on the thruway loses a tire, it comes flying off entirely rim and all,

grounding the thing onto its belly, collapsing the gas tank, and against all odds nobody dies. For the next few hours, he is returned to himself. What you lose in a relationship is the ability to be your actual self, always presenting instead a portion or version that you think is the right one for the role you're playing. When I was nothing to him, and he to me, we had nothing to lose, and it was then, those people, who were the real ones. Those people fell in love. Then we became US. And he at least certainly ceased to be the underneath actual self anymore in relation to me. I became the surface. His real self by definition then was looking for a new me to disclose itself to. We all do this, to some degree. Traumas of various kinds hasten the disfigurement of relationship. The more "normal" the state of trauma, the stronger the homing beacon to it. Maybe a near death experience can shake that mask back off for a moment, when what do you have to lose if by rights you should be dead anyway. And then there he is. There we are (I died long ago, I don't need to be god smacked to be honest). And sure enough, in different shapes than I imagined but still, there are reasons indeed, all that day becoming clearer like a mountain out of mist.

By the next day, he's mostly gone again, and he's depressed about his car. It's totalled. I don't blame him but I'm quiet, thinking it was a car well spent. (A reason for everything.) Like in "A Good Man is Hard to Find", he'd be okay if someone held a gun to his head every day of his life. If only he knew (believed) that gun were actually so, which it most certainly is, with or without me.

And me, I'm in pieces still and don't know how not to be. My understanding increases daily and that does almost nothing to assuage my pain. I don't know what to do with that. Or how I will figure it out.