Dehumanized

I feel dehumanized. Is that even a word, dehumanized? Going through this pain again and again. I am reading The Choice by Edith Eva Eger. I think I would rather have experienced the holocaust than this. Better to be disappointed with strangers than with people who should like you. Suddenly you distance yourself so much that you are no longer there. I have opened my heart to you so many times that I don't understand this now. Maybe it's autism or asperger's or giftedness that keeps me from being able to place it. Or no, that makes me not understand this hardness. All this ice. No connection. It's something I can't possibly do, which is why I don't understand that others can do it. Excluding me so harshly. Being able to pretend that I no longer exist. In the book they still have each other, the three sisters. Unconditional. I don't understand you. I don't understand my father. And I don't understand the world. There is always that immense void that I hopelessly try to fill. And in the meantime, participating in a world that I don't understand. You say that you have given up your life for the world (travel). Or for me. But you do. I never asked that. You give up your life every time to go back on a journey. World trip. You say we have no future but that is not the truth. You choose not to have a future. And not only for us, but also for yourself. By always handing over your life. And so did my father. By leaving and choosing never to be a father again. This is worse than a holocaust. I will also have a large share in it. To want to relive that again and again. Or find a solution to this madness. A way out. Another way.

Even now, after three and a half weeks of going through hell, still not even a letter or an email. Or a card. Not even Happy New Year last night. And if you are angry, don't even show your anger to me. Just close. No more connection. Heart locked hard. I screamed for love and all I heard was my echo. I have to focus on all those people who like me and show it. And yet it is difficult. Yet it is difficult to place and understand this. It's hard to let you go, to forget you. Because I like you. Is that allowed? Should we meet again in three months and pretend that none of this has happened... With a giant elephant in the room. Everyone lives their story I guess. And if you have never felt the pain that I feel now or have never been in such depression or have never felt that immense fear, then you certainly cannot understand it. You could stand next to me, without wanting to dissolve, without the word partner, just like my other friends. And I would like to have access to your heart. You use my pain as an excuse to never show yours. I would like to have the space to talk this through with each other. As if I haven't dared to talk all these years and now I have to catch up. I would like to have the space to talk to each other. I'm repeating myself. I'll probably shout it. Maybe we'll go to Dirk tomorrow, maybe not. How important is it to you. What do I mean to you? I don't know anymore. Maybe my past makes everything blurry. Definitely let go. Let go again. Always just let go. I'm probably also writing this in the hope that you will read it one day. That you read how much it hurts me. I dare not send anything anymore, no message, no email, no card, ... Nothing comes in. I hit a hard wall of indifference. I continue, day by day. I'm telling myself something. How much longer... I wished I could just let it all go at once. You, my father, the past, choice, ... It's just a painful process I guess. And it's not that I didn't let myself be helped, or didn't work on myself. I gave everything of myself for 32 blocks. If I feel good and am happy, then I can exist for you. And if I end up in such a depression as I have in recent weeks, then you completely suffocate me. I suspect things may never work out for me. That I'm going to have to accept the emptiness. Leave it for what it is. No more trying to fill it up. Not trying to find a solution. Maybe I'm projecting something onto you. The desire to receive a letter one day. The desire to get a card one day. The desire to hear what I mean to you. The desire to hear that I exist for you. Maybe that's just not you. Maybe that's not even in you. I had hoped to be given the space to talk. And not just an hour, but a whole day. It seems to have degenerated into something completely different. Distance. Immense distance. All connection gone. I don't understand how you do it. I really don't understand how you do it. And I don't know how I do it.

Aho.

Tears stream down my face, when you lose something you can't replace
Tears stream down my face, I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones,
And I will try to fix you... the past... the void...