For all that I hoped for, all that I longed for, all that I believed was true is no longer. No amount of faith can make true what doesn't exist. I cannot wish into existence a love that isn't real, nor can I change him or his life or his decisions. I cannot look to this god for comfort for it is this god who has slapped me so hard, awakening me from the dream that I perpetuated in my blindness. It was not god that I saw, not god who guided me. For god is only some unfeeling, uncaring, distant prime mover who cares not for our trivial lives or desires nor for the stories we tell ourselves. All that I believed in, everything that gave me joy, it was all nothing more than my own thoughts and dreams.
I believe in nothing anymore. No god. No dream. No love. No hope. No joy. No pain. Belief is immaterial to my programming. The joy I felt with you was nothing more than a glitch in my brain mass. It wasn't any of the things I believed it to be, wasn't the universe telling us something nor was it god speaking through you to me; the earth wasn't really moving beneath me when you touched me. You and I didn't actually become one when we made love. My heart didn't actually overflow with love when I thought of you. My soul never cried out for you nor did it really recognize you at first glance; it was nothing more than my misguided misinterpretation of neuronal interaction.
These glitches in my mind have done nothing to help me, done nothing to make me happier. Perhaps they provided a period of time, the time I spent with you, that I thought or believed that I was happy. I believed I was joyful and that God was smiling on me.
I was wrong.
It's better I recognize the reality of actual living, that we don't get to create our own happiness nor do we have choices about our own lives. We think we do, but in the end we really don't; we're trapped adhering to our pre-written protocol. Those moments of sheer joy and utter bliss that I spent in your arms are not real life; real life does not ever feel so good. Real life is THIS, is what I am now, is life minus the feeling, minus the ups and downs and the trap of belief and the lies of faith. Love is an obligation not a feeling; feeling is extraneous, is useless, is overrated, is a waste of time. The love I have felt for you must have been an illusion, part of the neuronal overload, a sad glitch in an overworked system. Any lingering love, those moments of intense feeling that grip my heart and produce a physical feeling of suffocation in my chest -- those feelings are the remnants of my recovering mind and heart as they bounce back from the depths to which they sunk during that time that I was so filled with feelings. Too much feeling will ruin my life.
In order to protect myself from this danger in the future, I will stand guard against feelings whenever they threaten to creep into my life again. In fact, it is better that I remain stolid, unfeeling and cold. I will accomplish more, I will feel less and will generally be more productive. I seek nothing and no one to warm me, nothing to move me to feel. Much better that I should march forward and never, ever feel that way again lest I lose my mind for good. My heart is not needed; it can exist locked away. My mind is something I need but when engaged with my heart, it becomes useless therefore it is much better that the heart will no longer entice, no longer tempt, no longer whisper dangerous words of longing and desire to my mind. I've broken, frozen and packed away the shards of my heart he left behind, no longer to be brought back out. Only now is my mind safe to proceed without the temptation of the heart. With it, my heart takes all its feelings, all the love, all the pain, all the hope and faith....and good riddance. Without it, my mind can function, can focus, can move on without you.
But woe to the accident of fate that might awaken my sleeping heart....for only YOU exist inside. If my heart is ever to feel you again, that awakening will pour forth such passion the likes of which will overwhelm my senses and destroy my equilibrium. To liberate my love for you from its dark sleep would take a miracle; it could only be done by you and for you.
Without you to share it, it would become nothing more than the instrument of my own death.
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