hakeswill (hakeswill) wrote,
hakeswill
hakeswill

sigh...

Well, right before I am leaving for the wedding rehearsal, I check my email. And after all this time, I find one waiting for me from my ex. Here it is:

"I hope you're dealing well with recent earthshaking
events. Of everyone I know, you're among the few I
don't think were either surprised or especially
devastated. I could be wrong- you could be playing
'Born in the U.S.A.' over and over and wearing flags
in your lapel- but somehow I doubt it. Hope no one you
knew was in the cities. Megan was too close for
comfort- mine, anyway-but she's uninjured, if a little
shaken up. Bowdoin is back to its usual apathetic
shape, after a couple of days of frantic scurrying
about. Blood drive today- I signed up, but it'll
probably be more of an opportunity to find out how low
my iron levels really are.
...started this email last week sometime, i think. i'm
swamped with things, which must be the way i prefer it
despite my bitching, since that's what always seems to
happen. supposedly am writing for the socialist
newspaper, though i have yet to see if that
materialises; cohosting a radio programme sunday
mornings; bgsa, democrats, and bowdoin women's clubs,
on and on. classes are less than wildly enjoyable,
particularly organic chemistry- which nevertheless has
a perverse beauty when i understand it. more and more
i find myself walking somewhere and feeling entirely
ephemeral- how do i describe it? feeling as if all of
my life, as i think of it, belonged to someone else
and the consciousness existing in that flash of
perception isn't 'me' at all, but something closer to
reality. i don't know if that makes any sense. i don't
know if it's another butterfly or not- you know that
proverb? the philosopher awakens from a dream wherein
he was a butterfly dreaming of being a human and he
can't tell where the dream leaves off. i think that's
how it goes. yesterday in the modern china class the
professor mentioned a parable - i think that's the
term- of one of the authors we read: there are people
asleep in an iron house, with the implication that
they can't get out. the house somehow catches fire (i
think there might be a problem with the translation
here). one person wakes up, and the question that lu
hsun poses is: should that person wake the others up?
what do you think?
i read this as a metaphor for enlightenment; other
people i mentioned it to insisted on keeping it
literal, which i think is silly.
i'm sending this off in the middle of a stream of
thought, since otherwise it'll ferment in cyberspace
for another week or so. i hope all is as well as it
can be.
-XXXX
(two middle names now- overcompensating?)"

I have no reply to this. There is nothing I can say that will make either of us feel better. She ignored all of my requests for answers in my previous emails, and hers is not one to start some sort of dialogue. Our lives are not even tangential to each other anymore.

Without any attention or response, my love for her has withered away. Part of me will always wish for reconciliation, but it isn't going to happen. Understanding would be nice as well, but she refuses me that.
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