When I started this thing, I was going through a rough time. It was not long after the fire, when we finally settled in new place. I was fighting myself, clinging to hopes that I didn't want to have because they were so small. I had felt childish and petty, a total disappointment and failure. The year of 2001 had been the worst year up until then. Assaulted by someone I trusted, the fire, living in a hotel with my parents because I couldn't afford a place of my own, and once the insurance ran out, shuffling from house to house, all while going to work and school. Dealing with all of this and what happened to me.

"Where would you take the girl of your dreams, the girl you wanted to marry?" I asked, in response to the question of what I wanted to do when we visited his parents. To this day, knowing that he had assaulted me, trying to keep it together, I will never know what made me ask this, what made me go that extra delusional step.

We went to World Trade Center.

A month later, it was in ruins, and not much later, so was the relationship.

A gust of wind came to blow down the house of cards, and it was just over. "Whatever he did to fuck it up," The Artist said, "he's lost a really great woman." If it hadn't been for my fan club, life would have been unbearable.

Which is where my delusions of grandeur and entitlement come from, because I've always had fan clubs of some sort or another. High school, coffeeshops, Classic Country Monday, hell, that bar. I don't have many friends anymore, nor do I have fan clubs, and I'm finding it kind of lonely. Which I think is odd, because I've always been alone and lonely. I was part of a hilariously sick universe and it was fun. But as with all things in life, even that came to an end.

I think the biggest question for me is "Can I ever love like that again?" Sometimes, I want to, but most of the time, I don't. The thought of living with someone makes my skin crawl. I really hate having to do all the emotional work of two people and I just refuse to do that. But I do realize that the bar is set pretty high as to pretty much guarantee that I will never have what I really want and still be happy. So I have to go it alone. It's a scary proposition, because I'd like to have a boyfriend at some point, but even then...I'm not sure I could really handle even that. The two I've had just didn't work out, each for different reasons. It's far too easy for me to hide myself away from people, a measure of self-defense because if people get to know you, they know what buttons to push. It only causes resentment, to be manipulated into doing things that you don't want to do, because of that "boyfriendness", and I while I'm not proud of myself for being pure evil in the things I do to lash out, they are understandable. But just try talking about them in adult manner, and it almost never works, because of those horrible things that people do to stop the conversation, when they actually bother to listen to you. I keep my pity party to one and just deal with it, like I've done for the whole of my life. No one ever wants to really hear the sad things, or the angry things, or anything that involves reality (unless it's funny). No one really cares about it either, unless they're a good friend.

I can be fun and exciting and strange and fascinating, and that's the person I will be when I'm out for adventure and fun. That's the side that gets me laid and fan clubs. But it surprises people when they find out I'm not all fun and games, that I'm a very intense and intelligent person. I really hate when people find this out, because then it's like I kept some bizarre secret from them, like I kill prostitutes in my spare time or something equally horrible. Usually, upon learning this, I get one of two reactions: they stop speaking to me, or they start hammering away wondering what else I didn't tell them and get mad when I won't tell them more. My line in the sand is that I will enhance certain aspects of my personality while suppressing others to create a particular impression and if someone breaches that line, well, it's not my fault that they're curious and it doesn't mean that I have to "come clean" because I only choose to tell what is interesting.

Which brings me back to The Writer and "mysterious". I suppose I am far too subtle in the mysterious department. But I can't help but be a subtle person. I prefer to be reserved so that I can observe and evaluate a situation. Well, that, and I'm rifling around in people's brains to determine if they mean harm or not. And I suppose that's where people get the impression that I'm innocent and trusting. I'm not all that trusting, which is probably why people get mad when they find out that they know very little about me, and somehow they've managed to tell me their life story. I do that on purpose. In rifling around, I sometimes stumble upon some very interesting things, things that I have no experience in but am curious to know. If it's strong enough, I can actually feel and see it. Well, now that I have it back, because for a while there, I couldn't do it, and that scared me. I was terrified to talk to people. That's what made the night I met Chicago Guy almost damn near magical, because I had it back. I saw That Look, and could feel it behind me, which amused me to no end. Strong emotion, indeed. (I so wanted to ask, "So, are you thinking of removing all of my clothing? Or just some?" It was like laser-beam intense.)

But it's that very thing I love to do which makes relationships hard for me, when you know what people are thinking. I've sometimes pushed too hard to get the unvarnished truth, because I know it's in there, and the mind is saying something entirely different than the words I'm hearing. Because of this, I've had to rely on what people say even though I know that it's not what they're thinking. I take it at face value because I have to, because I don't want people to realize what it actually means to be able to do what I can do. It's why I tell people who won't believe me, or people who will believe me but don't really believe me. Also, it would probably creep people out to know someone's been rifling around in the attic. I really do try to stay out, or just go in to determine if I want to talk someone or not, but some brains are far more interesting than others. I know it's an invasion of privacy on a level that no one wants to believe can happen. It's why I snicker at people who think they're pushing actual boundaries, because all they have to go on is what any other normal person goes on, and that's what people say.

It's why I will never get married, let alone be in a relationship. Unless I meet that perfect nexus of ability and attractiveness, someone who really does understand this and likes to fuck all the time, I'm not going to be happy. Because it is far too easy for me to wear the facade of "girlfriend", and say things like "Where would you take the woman you're going to marry?" and pretend that everything's alright. It's the evil impulse to know that most people can't even see the attic, much less be in it, and I can think what I want with impunity while I simultaneously creep about in theirs. Very, very rarely can someone block me from it. A time or two I've felt someone in there, but I try to block them out...or just think horribly depraved things until they go. It's why I hang onto what I said even though I knew I couldn't keep it up - just to remind myself of how horrible I can be, and to never, ever let myself do that again. It's why I can't hug people I don't know, because with each touch, the closer the proximity, the more I see, the more I feel. I'm okay with people thinking that I'm a cold bitch, because I know I'm not. It's why I can't live with someone, because they will constantly be on my radar and it will annoy me. It's how I know if someone means to harm me or not, if I can trust them if I need to say "stop". It's why I tend to leave as soon as I wake up.

I live in the world on a totally different wavelength than everyone else. Intimacy has a far greater meaning to me than "love" does, and sex is just pleasure (and, awesomely, one of the few times that touching someone doesn't matter). Perhaps it's a case of being too mysterious, or rather, manipulating the perception that people have of me. I'm never what I seem, only because most people don't really care to know.

And to tell you, the internets, the truth, I prefer it that way. Much, much easier to rifle around in brains.