This morning I was hearing voices more than usual as I was trying to sleep.  I’m a voice hearer all my life–it’s part of what disables me.  They were loud, but not angry or screamy.  Yes, I’ve been a little too up lately, so it makes sense to have extra voices.

I heard a voice that sounded like _______’s and felt curious.  I’m partly faceblind and can’t picture his face.  The way he looks is never what I liked him for.  But I remember his voice perfectly–beautiful, low, resonant, vibrating right into my heart, soaked in joy.  Like pancakes soaked in syrup.  Mmmm.

That seemed odd to me, not to know his face, but his voice is still inside me, these months later.

phone call

Then I was remembering the phone call we had last spring, when he was at the beach before karaoke.  I’d asked him some questions point blank that he finally decided to answer.

He told me he had no desire to live with me, he didn’t want to give a lot to me, and there were a few reasons he didn’t say he loved me.  One was that he didn’t want to lead me on.  Later he told me he regretted that phone call and should have postponed it.

After hearing the voice that sounded like his, I started thinking about what he meant by not wanting to lead me on.  Lying in bed, trying to sleep, I start to cry.  What were we doing, if not love?  Being there for each other every day; my constant work toward his well-being.  The Sunday night phone call to look at our calendars and talk about the upcoming week and what we had going on, to stay on track.  When I sang to him–everything I gave.

I thought of all the physical things he gave to me.

  • the bird pin that says nuthatch in Russian
  • the art pin with anarchy sign
  • the necklace he made me for my birthday
  • the little bag with small statue and stones
  • graffiti slaps
  • stickers
  • zines
  • letters
  • a few Magic cards
  • his first atc
  • the flowers he sent on my mom’s death anniversary

What did he not want to lead me on toward?  Maybe he wanted me to know I could never matter to him.  But why would he give me daily contact and everything else, if I didn’t matter?

Something is still confusing me.  Maybe he wanted me to know that he would never really be there for me like I was for him.


It’s all dissolved sand castle now–there’s no point trying to figure it out.  Don’t try to understand something that never made sense even at the time, Nest.  Let alone after the fact.  It would be like trying to read a language that was made up for a movie.  I could project onto it, but there’s no sense to find.

I offered to help him learn to communicate.  Being in love with him, I wanted to be helpful.  He always ignored the suggestion.  He was willing to learn from men and people who looked like men to him, but not women.  I guess it was his lack of respect.

That’s enough right there to send me to a therapist.  Why would I want to be close to someone who doesn’t respect women?  It makes zero sense.

A lot of people get tricked into believing he wants to better himself–so many people are moved and want to help him.  Charming artist full of potential, in recovery, rather young: good looking white guy with his life ahead of him.  I was not the only one he duped–it’s a huge part of his survival.


I have a lot of faith–it’s something I enjoy about myself.  I believed in the angel inside him, to my detriment, with a deep voice of love vibrating out.

Nothing, including this man I was in love with, can make me hate myself.  The faith inside me is a beautiful miracle, no matter what harm it leads to.  I won’t crush the faith–I’ll just find more skill at listening to my own needs and not compromising myself.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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