I got up, went to have a smoke, and got back in. Still, those thoughts returned.
Tried again, still there.
So now I'm getting the message. Maybe I need to write them down so that I can unburden myself.
Here goes.
For some strange reason, the email I want to eventually write Gina, started coming to mind. I was dictating my feelings to her, and describing exactly everything that I want to say. I wanted it to be perfect, this perfect letter, but my mind kept jumping all over the place with different ideas and possible things to say; that it started to feel like torture, almost. This kind of circus, where something comes onto the stage, does its thing, and then the next act arrives.
So then my mind decided to move onto something else. I don't know why, but it started thinking about Cash. Gina's six-year old son.
I was imagining being in bed with Gina, at a time like now, when Cash barges into the room, just like she described it to me, by slamming open the door and waking us both up.
In my head, I'm imagining this scenario quite vividly. I bolt upright in bed, and I look at Cash with tired, surprised eyes. I look over at Gina, and she is about to get out of bed to take care of him.
Instead, I give her a look, and shake my head.
"I've got this." I tell her, and I lead Cash by the hand out of the room, and into the hallway.
"What's up little man, why are you waking us up so late?"
"I have to pee," Cash says.
"Then let's go pee." And I stand outside the bathroom as he finishes his business and leaves.
We go into his bedroom.
"Feeling better now?" I ask.
"Yes David."
"Cash, please stop waking your mom and I up when you have to pee. We need to sleep. And it's scary when you slam the door like that. Your mom and I love you, and we always want to see you, but not when we are sleeping. Understand?"
"Yes David."
And in my head, the conversation kind of goes on for a bit. It's me doing my fatherly voice, and my fatherly routine. I sit next to Cash, watching him fall asleep, and maybe stroking his hair a bit. He then falls asleep, and I turn off the lights and tip-toe out of the room. I get back under the covers, and Gina is still awake. I feel her legs brushing up against mine.
"How did it go?" she asks. And I tell her, and say that there's nothing to worry about and that she should go back to sleep. I give her a kiss, maybe squeeze her boob (or butt, both are equally as enticing) and then we wake up in the morning, at our usual times, and a new day begins.
I don't know why I'm thinking of this. But maybe, there's a part of me inside that wants to be prepared for these kind of scenarios involving children. And thinking of them like I am now, is giving me a rough idea of what it is I have to say and do when the moment arises.
I'm kind of a control freak, I admit. I like to know exactly when and where and all of the details, so that I have as few variables as possible, to have to worry about managing.
I don't like being in a corner, wondering what to do.
I know I'm well equipped to handle just about anything, as long as I can picture it with my imagination and play out the outcome. As if I was actually there. I also know that there's really nothing for me to worry about, when it comes to my control issues. I know that the best way to handle anything, is to trust my own judgement. And that's not always easy, given how it has failed me a few times in the past. But I have much better odds of being successful in life, if I simply stand by the essence of who I am, and not be casting a suspicious eye towards it.
I basically need to trust myself more. But I also need to be rational, because intuition on it's own, is not a smart way of being. I've learned that particular lesson many years before, as I was driving across Canada, shortly after Tina attempted for the second time, to get me into a threesome with her husband.
I'm a complicated and damaged man, I admit. But I'm also simple, and complete.
Complete. I do feel that way. I do feel like I have enough intelligence, enough compassion, enough wisdom, soul, spirit, humor, strength, courage.. whatever attributes are necessary, I already have them. In good amounts too.
I'm not sure if I'm making much sense with this post. But it feels good writing my thoughts down. I know that I have to chronicle this sort of thing, so that I can look back and be reminded of it.
I'm in my office right now, having a bottle of water and looking at the Darth Vader figure I moved from the bedroom into here. He's holding a necklace of mine up, that I hardly ever wear, in place of where Gina's panties once were.
I miss that. I don't know what compelled me that day, that last day she was over, to take the panties off Darth and place them in the bathroom. I think a part of me was tired of looking at them, and wanted her to have it back.
It kind of makes me sick to think I was feeling that way. And it makes me sicker, still, to know that she took them with her. Never to be seen by me again.
I.. have an idea of why she left them here to begin with. Well.. She.. wanted to keep me reminded. Of her. Of us. Of sex. Of her, mainly.. and...
God.. I co..
Sometimes writing is hard. Especially when it's so personal. But.. it feels like something I have to do. To let out. Otherwise keeping it all inside is going to ruin me.
I think too much sometimes. About everything. My mind has a hard time standing still. But I do have my moments, like earlier today, where I could sit in a chair outside for two hours and listen to music without having to think. Just to be in the moment, to enjoy the sun on my face, the wind on my skin. To see insects flying about, and.. yeah, that bunny was here again too. It did something different this time. When I came up to Roger, he did this jump, straight up into the air like two feet, and scampered off. Again, he did that jump as I was watching, and left.
What was the point of jumping straight up into the air? Why would the bunny do that?
Whenever I can't make sense of the world, I try and use my imagination. I try to use empathy. But it doesn't work very well with animals, obviously, as I can't get inside their heads and imagine what is going on. At least not with accuracy, I don't think.
There were times in my life when I did have this profound sense of empathy towards animals, and one of the moments that really resonated with me, was when I visited a Pet Smart a few years ago and went to look at the fishes.
I came across this one particular tank that held maybe two dozen of what looked like goldfish. Some with big eyes, some with small ones and the one that caught my attention looked a lot like this picture here.
So this one fish floated at the front of the tank, unmoving, apart from the rest of his tank mates, and was staring through the glass.
Staring at me.
And I stared right back at him. I cleared my mind. I became empathic, and "one" with the fish.
And.. I was. I became. And in that empty mind of mine, I felt what it was like to live in that tank. To blow little air bubbles. To stare at strangers from behind the glass.
This fish kept looking at me. I was there for maybe five minutes. A long time. Locked in this kind of trance. This communal awareness that passed between us.
It felt really good. I honestly felt like I learned from that fish. That I experienced it's reality, and that sort of epiphany somehow carried over into my soul, and made me more appreciative of the other life forms we share this planet with. It's not just humanity. It's everything. The bugs. The birds. The lizards. The horses. Dogs. Cats. Fishes. They all inhabited this "bubble" that we humans kind of separated ourselves from wanting to know.
I think I'm about ready for bed now.
Hopefully once I'm in there, I'll be thinking about fishes.
Instead of her.
(sighs)
