another burned journal

Brett needed to hear certain things. He needed to be sent on his way after he came to see me feeling like things were okay. He needed to leave without worrying about what state he was leaving me in. I couldn't let him walk out worrying about that too, not when he showed up in the first place for a little comfort. Sure, he came in and immediately started bitching, but deep down, I think he showed up and got exactly what he came there for. In his defense, I don't think it was conscious on his part. I don't think he thought it out, I don't think he really sat there and decided 'I'm going to go see her, get my rocks off then leave'.

I just know him. I know that even if he didn't want to be a cop again, now that he is he'll put his every effort into it. I know this city's in total screaming turmoil, and that isn't going to end any time soon. I know no matter what happens, it's not really going to have an end point. The dust won't really settle--it never does. The city's a living, writhing beast in it's own right, and it's never going to stop. The parasites within will keep warring, and he'll be doing damage control til it kills him.

He said he'd talk to me about things when everything was over. That he'd make time. I just know better. I think right now I'd take a little ignorance on things. I'd take it if maybe I didn't know him quite so well. I'd take it if I couldn't look to the future and see an endless string of dominoes falling and falling and that mythical 'over' point being nonexistent. I wish I could believe in a someday.

Then again, even if it came, he was clear that his feelings weren't any different. Or, that was what I took away from things. That things aren't different for him, he still doesn't know what he'll decide, and oh yeah, we're not even going to discuss it til...well. Never. He just stopped in because Brett's a powderkeg at best sometimes, and he had to find some kind of release for a moment. I guess that's me.

He'll need me when he needs me, but not when he doesn't. I predict he'll show up again, when he needs that pressure release. When things get to be too much, he'll turn up, and we'll repeat the performance, and I'll tell him the same things as I did this time and he'll go on his way feeling better and it'll be perfect for him. He'll be able to do his job, have something on the side that requires nothing from him because a) he's busy b) he isn't sure he wants to be with and c) we're not even officially anything to each other anymore. And tail on the side that you don't have to incorporate into your life whatsoever, who's needs aren't present in the dynamic, that's a whore. I just don't happen to be getting paid for it, and I make it okay for him to justify it in his own head.
He does need the justification. He'd hate it if he saw the analogy. He'd be upset about it. There just isn't another way. He'd just grind himself into the ground (Something I'm not entirely certain he isn't doing anyway) and I can't let that happen. So, there's this or there's nothing. It serves no purpose to have him believing anything other than the impression I gave him. Not for him, not for me, not for the department, not for the cases he's working. There would be no upside. And one thing I've always been able to search out is the up side. It was how I used to run my life entirely. I found the benefits then went for that, manipulated events around myself to ensure I got them. I avoided no-win situations like this one. Every action served a specific purpose, built towards some end payoff. Anything that didn't have some use to me or would only serve to harm my intentions...well. Those were dismissed.

I can write all of that down and it's reasonable, and I understand it, and I even agree. Emotionally, however, it doesn't feel good. It doesn't feel like the right thing to do. It feels like everything's just as hopeless as it was before, only now it just hurts more to add some insult to injury. It feels like I did something wrong, even if I understand it as a necessity.

I don't manipulate him. I know how. I've seen manipulation points millions of times in the course of our relationship. So often I would be able to see it, the angles, how I could just push a button and get the response I wanted. I just didn't use that. I didn't act on it. This time not only did I see it, but I went through with it and made goddamn sure that I played my part flawlessly.

And he bought it. He walked out of my place feeling fine about what had happened and that leaving was fine too. And I think it killed me a little bit. I did everything I could to make him feel better, but I feel worse because of it. And, like I said, I just signed on to be an unpaid whore for the man. I’d like to say I think better of myself than to do that, but it’s not about that for me. For me, it’s about all the bullshit that doesn’t apparently matter. Or, doesn’t matter to him, anyway. Maybe that’s why I never believed in it before, it sucks and it means something to me, but that isn’t good enough.

I sound angry. Rereading what I’ve put down, that’s how it comes off. I think if I were angry, I’d feel better, but I really am not. I’m resigned. One of the worst feelings in the world is knowing you don’t like a situation but you’re unwilling to change it. And I know that’s what it is, too. It’s not that I’m unable. I could write him a letter, tell him that I feel like we need to be apart, and with everything else going on I’m sure that I’d fall by the wayside. He’d get upset, then not think about it because he’s got investigations to tend to, and days would turn into weeks would turn into months til one day he passes me on the street and doesn’t place me right away.

But I’m not willing to do that. Like I’m not willing to push the issue, either. He’s got enough going on, even if in some insane world I pushed and he opted to get back with me, I’d never be able to feel right about that. I’d feel like he would be resenting me somewhere in the back of his mind, and Brett can hold a grudge til judgment day. Which brings me to the other factor. He said plainly enough that he’d never be able to trust me again. And from what he was saying, from what I understand about it all, there’s nothing I can do to change that. I killed a man, not even my first, though I think it’s the only one he holds against me. Though it’s crossed my mind to confess to the murder of my father. That was never on the table as far as deals go with him. Either way, though, it’s done, and that’s it and it’s not going away.

I believe what I said before, I think in my letter to him. I don’t know for sure, some of that’s hazy, but I know it’s been on my mind. The idea that he’s just going through a longer process of letting go. That he wants to walk away, he just isn’t good at it, so he’s stumbling a little. Telling himself different things but the fundamentals of the situation will not change. I can’t undo what I did. He isn’t going to be able to forgive me for it. He isn’t going to be able to trust me again because of it.

And that’s where the tale ends, isn’t it. Or, usually it is, just in this case, he’s truly hampering that process. Part of me understands that. It’s not like I want to let go of him, I don’t. I don’t know why it is that things seem to have changed. I always got frustrated with him because he isn’t a dreamer. He never thinks about the future never tries to consider better days or other situations. It’s why he was stuck in the rut he was for so long. Only in this case, he says he daydreamed too, and it’s me who’s being the harsh realist. I wish I could just sort of put aside my convictions, but I can’t. Not when I know him as well as I do, and I think in this, I’m back on track. I know for a while I was missing things, but I think I’ve worked that part out.

So here it is.

I taught him to give a damn again. About people, about life. I got through the shell, and he cared about me. But I’m the first person in at least the last three years, possibly longer, that’s managed that. And Brett doesn’t generally half ass things. So, he cared a lot. And he’s terrible at letting go. I represented things to him, I believe. Something better, maybe. I don’t know if I truly made him happy, I remember how he couldn’t seem to share in that with me. But I got somewhere. Farther than anyone else in recent history. And he’s having problems letting go, so he’s dragging his feet on it. It wasn’t on his terms and he’s not really used to that, he’s got issues there that aren’t going to have an answer, but he’s got to work up to cutting the cord. Or he just needs enough time that when he looks for it again, he realizes it’s not there anymore and he doesn’t have to actively do anything to sever things, time and space will have done that for him. I said before that I was the catalyst for him. If it weren’t for me, he’d stay and just keep doing what he was doing, keep crashing into the brick wall in front of him. It took me to direct him around. He’s just got a new wall with the force. It’ll consume him like everything else did.

Maybe that’s all I was for a while, something that just occurs to me now as I write this. Maybe I was just another wall. A different kind, obviously. Very different. But still a wall. Something he couldn’t get around, certainly, especially with the origins of our relationship. Maybe that’s really all this is. It’s taken Brett ages to really get on board with getting himself out of his old situation. He would have rotted there forever if it hadn’t been for me. And then there was me, and now the force’ll take that place again.

That’s depressing. For me, anyway. For him, not really. It’s how he lives his life. It’s the man who I fell for when I didn’t believe in falling for anyone. I realize that I can’t write the word down. It’s lost meaning for me already. Or maybe it just stings, and I don’t really have to put myself through it, so I don’t. I can’t separate it out from the ‘it doesn’t matter’. I don’t even think that’s exactly what he said. I think it was more along the lines of sometimes it’s not enough, but I know it translates to me as not mattering. One thing I’ve learned in my life is that semantics are just semantics, it’s the end results that matter. And the end result is through everything he’s said, those feelings don’t matter. They don’t weigh in. I think I’m repeating myself, writing down things I’ve written before. I wonder how often I do that, just keep writing til I’m going over the same ground I did already, but it’s still there in my mind so I feel like I have to get it out.

I suppose that’s just another thing I’ll have to deal with in my life. That sometimes I’ll need to get something out and I will, but it won’t matter because I’ll get fuzzy on the release aspect of things, and merely come back to it at another time. Like a carousel I keep going around and around, and I only vaguely know I’ve been on this ride before.