All my projections dissolved when i got to know him better. Rather, he became, in his unequivocal singularity, a projection in himself. I internalized him, absorbing the blueprint he proffered. And though possessed of watchfulness my process of inoculation was both precipitate and thoughtless. In abrogating my cognition, i found a relationship but the relationship i found abrogated even me from myself.
What, i often wonder, renders this process possible, indeed plausible, this process, in a sense, where the worldview of the other, becomes, a self inflicted masochism. Granted that indeterminacy is unavoidable is not a certain veracity, underlying our projections, discernible. I am willing to concede that i imposed constructions and blueprints as to his being but given the vast untraversed consciousness of our collective nature, certain mnemonics were bound to be true. Relationality rendered that incontrovertible.
I quashed my impulses and intuitions as our relationship progressed. I suspended all scepticism. I circumvented disquieting intimations by forcefully repressing them.I eschewed misgivings. And the reason for that was that i loved him. And it wasn't simply falling narcissistically in love with an image or a love of self as the self sought love. He got under my skin. He ,through some alchemical imperceptible osmosis leaked into my sense of being. As our identities coalesced or more accurately he was superimposed, with my own complicity, into my consciousness i found in me reserves of sadism, perversion and darkness which were incommunicable.
The process by which these latent, immanent propensities were acknowledged by me was that while i abdicated on general awareness i immersed myself in the quest for self knowledge. It seemed that my collusion in the monochromatic power politics of this relationship was my desire to find myself out, to find out for myself what i was, could be capable of. My exegesis revealed in me, to me, primal impulses, unassailable and unassimilable to my rational consciousness.
So this self analysis, which is equally evasion, that i present here demonstrates the limits of self knowledge. Unconscious projections accepted consciously mitigate as ostensible absolutions of one's baser nature but their unsublimated, unresolved ramifications lodge one deeper into the neurotic morass which was, in my case, both alternately sought and desisted, accompanied by a spurious self examination which has become, in its circumlocutions around the ellipses of its own parentheses, a tautologous replication of my inner emptiness, unalleviated and unmediated by a metaphysical beyond. I need to find a way to break this circle.