One Who Wanders (abiona) wrote,
One Who Wanders
abiona

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Is your heart in the right place? Is it? Is mine? Do you ever stop daily to ask yourself this, as I have now begun to do? This feeling happens to me so frequently now, where it had not before, always around midnight to one a.m. Sometimes it even prevents sleep, this sense of sand in my chest that presses both in and out with its weight, unshakable. Months ago, I would write character monologues when I felt like this. Now I write letters to explain things to people who don't want them explained, and will most likely never read them.

I know no one will respond to this, although sometimes I do wish people would, even if they didn't know what to say. So often I am the first and last post, or the last post ... as if somehow I had ended the conversation by arriving, or had squelched it by beginning. It's annoying sometimes, hurtful at other times ... I know I can't have said it all.

Nights like this, I wander the Web without speaking to anyone, visiting sites of people who have most likely forgotten me, and taking special care to visit the sites of those who want to forget, and those who hate me. In many ways, it's an utterly cold action - I will still watch you as we watched each other, and I will not forget. I will remember your faults, I will seek them out, and I will keep tabs on your activities for future reference.

But sometimes I find myself looking for evidence that they hated me, even though I've often had it straight out of their mouth. Can I see it in their artwork? Is it there in their writing? What have I done, is this reflected in here? This is such an incoherent entry, compared to some of the letters that I've been writing. I wonder sometimes if I should finish them, if it's even worth it. I know they will not respond should I send them, but I will forever keep on waiting ... now you see part of the source of Abiona Apara, the character who lives upon memories, and cannot give them up.

I sigh, as I look at the AGVEC (AGV Emergency Center), a group that was set up on Yahoo for the "survivors" of AGV. I feel stranger still as I look at their EZboard, and sigh to myself as I see the border I set down with my words. "Their." It isn't "my" EZboard, no longer "my" group, it's something I feel sadly separate from. I can't join in, not really. This isn't a part of me as it once was, and I desire so strongly to move on ... yet I cannot, I never can. I've never been able to move on.

Sometimes, I laugh when I look at the ExiledAGV EZboard ... for months earlier, I had the very same thought that they did. Months earlier, I had begun to create a set of forums much in the same style with the same medium ... but I gave it up, knowing that were the real AGV to disappear, I would never have the heart to keep up what to me seemed a charade, a shadow of the former self trying to be what it was not.

Please do not be offended, members of the AGVEC who may be reading this. That was not my intention here, although I suppose I should have suspected that would be the end result. I seem to have been offending many people today, realizing the trodden eggshells too late to patch the wound ... it tires me ... it saddens me ... sometimes I feel confused, not knowing what I've said or done that drew such a reaction.

It's strange how despite the fact that AGV has been gone for nearly three months now, I still feel constrained by the image I upheld on it. I shouldn't say these things here, for I will regret them later. It will destroy the appearance of the quiet, restrained intellect, or it will be used against me by someone, in some fashion.

"If an individual wants to qualify as being a Good Person (and who doesn't?) she or he will try to hold in occasional feelings of anger. [...] As time goes on, the person whose rule says anger is bad or dangerous begins to tighten up further inside" (pg 171).

From "Making Connections Second Edition: Readings in Relational Communication," by Kathleen M. Galvin and Pamela J. Cooper.
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