Wednesday, June 4, 2014

CHOOSING

After i freed myself from his clutches i often thought of the narrow escape i'd had. With another turn of the dice i would even have killed myself, such was his overwhelming, overpowering impact on me. It has always been so with a narcissist, first an ingenuous subsumption, followed by incredulous disbelief in the continuity of the predicament and culminating in a heartbreaking sundering. Letting go was perhaps a sane thing to do, a self preservation which any protracted engagement would have robbed me off.

Strangely i loved him, still do, in fact. Though it is a love accreted with prevarication, self loathing, projections and deceptions. Was then, breaking through a choice or was it a choice always already made. Here i was, a bundle of contradictions, defined by forces beyond me, struggling to express myself in my own, small, individuated way. I felt the weight of centuries of norms, preconceptions thwarting me yet these self same fetters were also the conditions of my release. My confinement was a precondition for my liberation or rather freedom was immanent in my incarceration, most of it self imposed and willfully perverse.

So i put up with his misdemeanors because i believed he loved me as much as i loved him. This was a strange love where my being was unmitigatedly submerged under his will. Each tidbit into myself he proffered i gulped down uncritically uncomplainingly. Certainly before i met him i had a tenuous sense of self. He gave me certitude, a certitude compounded of extrojection and pathology. He made me believe the worst about me and he got away with it because i was merely a negation, a blank space he filled with his arcane, recondite and self serving etchings.

Yet my negation negated his own sense of negation. He fattened himself on my emaciated soul and the nourishment he sought was a form of psychological deadlock for me.He needed me as much as i believe i needed  him and perhaps his need, however solipsistic it was, was my nourishment, my way of ameliorating the emptiness in my own existence. From our respective spiritual impoverishments we soldered complicitly though the overcompensations his soullessness led him to was bewildering for me, unanticipated. If he amalgamated a narcissistic self i revelled in my disintegration. The reason why it took so long to leave was because the abyss of existential freedom  free choice would engender was inconceivable and terrifying for me. Better to be immured in a self constructed dependency than face the precipitous depths.

In any case ,i left. Not a brave choice or not even, perhaps a choice but merely a retroactive discovery of the choicelessness of the human lot, the burden of existing and living. So i reverted to my constituents,gleaning, from each stipple, each brushstroke the work of art i would make of myself, would become. 

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