Today is the second day without you. The house feels desolate. I was just going to take a bath ( that was a few hours ago) and I noticed the carpet in the closet felt wet.There is a leak somewhere in the corner and quite a few of your papers got drenched. Have been cleaning up after that.Its over now and its 6:00 p.m.Haven’t you come back from wherever you’d been in the morning ? Was thinking you would call.
And I’d appreciate a reply through e-mail to this one, its been a long time since you wrote to me. Every time I try to put your paperwork in order, I end up spending hours without too much to show for output and this strange wistful mood. I remember having seen a movie called ‘The Blithe Spirit’ many years ago.It was a ghost story as well as a comedy - and it was absolutely enjoyable.You called now.We spoke for a while.You did not like the sound of my voice.
The reason to remember the movie - well the spirit of the dead wife plays tricks with the new one, amusing tricks really - nothing harmful.She’s just trying to have fun at someone’s expense.The lady obviously does not see the spirit but the husband does and he is exasperated with it - “her”. He begs and scolds it by turn - but that does not help too much. The audience is amused at what goes on.She is scattered all over your papers and I often feel a sense of loss when I’m there trying to set my house in order.Do I need to displace someone to make more room ?
There is a logical explanation to this : she remembers you ( which is why I find it difficult to get over her - my life is too tied to yours). It is perhaps because this thing has left a void in her life and she will continue to live in the past until someone can fill it up.And so it proves that whatever it was , had a considerable importance to her - and you.
You had made a gross understatement when you termed this episode a "four day circus" - I remember the term you had used. It was much more than that.When did you speak to her last ? I don't know why but at times like this I feel like I was a hurried salvage bid only after things with her had reached a point of no return. And you tried to the bitter end.Where was I then ? It hurts that I was merely an "also ran" in the scheme of things, so that it was enough for your aunt to veto the first time around.Where was I then ? I used to think that I'm irreplaceable, talk of pride - I have it in extra measure and it feels wounded.
The phone bills, membership cards, shopping bills for cosmetics, female undergarments and condoms - up to about a few months before we got talking about our marriage.In your fantasies - I was not the first “real” woman.She preceded me. That hurts a lot.I would wish it had not been so.She will continue to there in the far horizon of my life (read our) a lingering and bothersome itch till such time as she has a present and a future.
So there is a tenable logical explanation and I propose it myself - then what is this whole brouhaha about ? In love everything is not logic and for someone with a powerful imagination like mine all the less so.It is amazing to me that this has so much potential to disturb my mental equilibrium.Time was when I believed love is about total freedom, complete acceptance and that to possess is to cease to love.Was that just theoretical ? My behavior is quite incomprehensible to me.I feel petty and mean to think that I could behave this way.
Thus the unpalatable truth brings out the worst in the best of us. How could I be exempt ? Its a sad thing that I could not live up to my own expectations. I thought I would be a whole lot more generous.Looks like I’m not.Is this really the “unconditional love” I’m so fond of talking about ? And has a sense of insecurity made you so possessive ? Were you like this always or did she do this to you ? Such questions come to mind.Such questions can be disturbing. Where are the scars that I still cannot see ? Will I ever be able to heal them ?
It’s getting dark outside, and I realize that I still haven’t had a bath.Maybe now ( 7:30 p.m) would be a good time.Have been remembering the name of a book ( or was it the title of some song) “Blood on the dance floor” - all through the afternoon today.Does it sound familiar to you ?
And another thing - while I'm at it. I would never like to have to ask you any questions regarding this, it feels to me like I'm prosecuting a criminal.I hate doing it and I wont do it. I have told you all about my predilections regarding this issue.I don't want us to go on about this.Maybe you should try to give me a very detailed version of the story rather than choking the life and meaning out of it in a crude summary.I trust you and I have faith in me that nothing can go wrong between us - ever.However this question and answer thing cannot work for me.I would rather not need to ask anything.You understand ?
And I’d appreciate a reply through e-mail to this one, its been a long time since you wrote to me. Every time I try to put your paperwork in order, I end up spending hours without too much to show for output and this strange wistful mood. I remember having seen a movie called ‘The Blithe Spirit’ many years ago.It was a ghost story as well as a comedy - and it was absolutely enjoyable.You called now.We spoke for a while.You did not like the sound of my voice.
The reason to remember the movie - well the spirit of the dead wife plays tricks with the new one, amusing tricks really - nothing harmful.She’s just trying to have fun at someone’s expense.The lady obviously does not see the spirit but the husband does and he is exasperated with it - “her”. He begs and scolds it by turn - but that does not help too much. The audience is amused at what goes on.She is scattered all over your papers and I often feel a sense of loss when I’m there trying to set my house in order.Do I need to displace someone to make more room ?
There is a logical explanation to this : she remembers you ( which is why I find it difficult to get over her - my life is too tied to yours). It is perhaps because this thing has left a void in her life and she will continue to live in the past until someone can fill it up.And so it proves that whatever it was , had a considerable importance to her - and you.
You had made a gross understatement when you termed this episode a "four day circus" - I remember the term you had used. It was much more than that.When did you speak to her last ? I don't know why but at times like this I feel like I was a hurried salvage bid only after things with her had reached a point of no return. And you tried to the bitter end.Where was I then ? It hurts that I was merely an "also ran" in the scheme of things, so that it was enough for your aunt to veto the first time around.Where was I then ? I used to think that I'm irreplaceable, talk of pride - I have it in extra measure and it feels wounded.
The phone bills, membership cards, shopping bills for cosmetics, female undergarments and condoms - up to about a few months before we got talking about our marriage.In your fantasies - I was not the first “real” woman.She preceded me. That hurts a lot.I would wish it had not been so.She will continue to there in the far horizon of my life (read our) a lingering and bothersome itch till such time as she has a present and a future.
So there is a tenable logical explanation and I propose it myself - then what is this whole brouhaha about ? In love everything is not logic and for someone with a powerful imagination like mine all the less so.It is amazing to me that this has so much potential to disturb my mental equilibrium.Time was when I believed love is about total freedom, complete acceptance and that to possess is to cease to love.Was that just theoretical ? My behavior is quite incomprehensible to me.I feel petty and mean to think that I could behave this way.
Thus the unpalatable truth brings out the worst in the best of us. How could I be exempt ? Its a sad thing that I could not live up to my own expectations. I thought I would be a whole lot more generous.Looks like I’m not.Is this really the “unconditional love” I’m so fond of talking about ? And has a sense of insecurity made you so possessive ? Were you like this always or did she do this to you ? Such questions come to mind.Such questions can be disturbing. Where are the scars that I still cannot see ? Will I ever be able to heal them ?
It’s getting dark outside, and I realize that I still haven’t had a bath.Maybe now ( 7:30 p.m) would be a good time.Have been remembering the name of a book ( or was it the title of some song) “Blood on the dance floor” - all through the afternoon today.Does it sound familiar to you ?
And another thing - while I'm at it. I would never like to have to ask you any questions regarding this, it feels to me like I'm prosecuting a criminal.I hate doing it and I wont do it. I have told you all about my predilections regarding this issue.I don't want us to go on about this.Maybe you should try to give me a very detailed version of the story rather than choking the life and meaning out of it in a crude summary.I trust you and I have faith in me that nothing can go wrong between us - ever.However this question and answer thing cannot work for me.I would rather not need to ask anything.You understand ?
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