It was her back she showed. There was no mistaking that. But showing it to whom? And what was the message? Was the message in the words? She was like me? Or was the message in the image? Take a hike.

Who ######6 cares. This is precisely where it needed to end up, where it was always going to end up. I was truthful and realistic throughout. That's true -- it's right there in the words! Just because they didn't understand the situation (and still don't) doesn't change things.

I watched the video with XXXXX and it put things in some perspective. I know exactly where he was coming from and what he was feeling. The obsession, the irrational love and hate, the possessiveness, the sense of betrayal. I don't know this person. I've never met her, never spoken to her in any direct way, and yet my mind thinks that she's mine and that she owes me everything. At its worst I wanted to kill her. She deserved nothing less than that. That was crystal clear in my mind. I no longer want that but I can't say I don't enjoy seeing her suffer. She's scum. If she's not mine then she's vile. Absolutely no redeeming qualities. It's that simple.

This is not right. This is not healthy or normal. And yet they chastise me for fighting it, from their perspective running from it. Okay world, you can be the judge on this one. Should XXXXXXX have pursued XXXXXX or should he have fought his feelings and thoughts? Either way maybe he's a creep, but in which instance are his actions contemptible? The answer is obvious.

My actions were the right ones or the necessary ones, even when the feelings and thoughts weren't. That's what they never understood: What they were observing was a gross misrepresentation of what was going on beneath the surface. I loved her so much I wanted to destroy her. Then I just wanted to destroy her. They never recognized that because of the bifurcation of my emotional and rational sides. But that was there. That was the truth. XXX and XXXXXX and XXXXX and XXXXXXXX and all the others -- they're all the same. I'm the same. Only my actions were different. And my actions served them as much as myself.

The run was about what isn't and what can't be, not what was lost or missed. The poem was about reminiscences, not about the present. They don't understand. It's all there. The words speak the truth. They are correct and always were. I'm beginning to see that again.

It comes and goes, as it has for nearly 5 years now.

Actually, that's not true. It's come and gone for nearly 20. Same cycles but the host changes from time to time.

I hate to admit it but this one was/is the worst. I hate to admit it because it implies that she holds power over me. And since i hate her guts and think she's disgusting, I don't want to admit to that.

It's a bizarre feeling to be so convinced of something and then have that belief wiped away. It's embarrassing too. I'm not the same person in this reality as I was in the other one. Of course that's why the other reality was created.

But wait, this reality isn't completely devoid of accomplishments and identity. In their world things were framed unfairly. I was reticent and cowardly. I didn't come forward because I was scared of rejection and wanted to be comfortable.

No. That's not it at all. I didn't come forward because what I was experiencing was borderline psychosis. I was trying to run from fantasy, not to it. In reality I lived for years outside my comfort zone and thrived. I look back at what I did for those 10 years and have no shame.

It's funny. Some people hate going on Facebook and seeing what other people are doing with their lives. I completely understand this, although I don't feel the same. Most people feel self-conscious when all anyone does is show you pictures of their tropical vacations or the time they met the President. But those are just points in time. The don't comprise the majority of those people's lives, which are undoubtedly filled with the same ennui, doubt, and struggle we all experience.

But I don't mind the stealth boasting and the misrepresentation. And I don't mind it for two reasons. First, I realized at some point that all my old acquaintances who've gone onto bigger and better things -- the military, particularly my unit, opens a lot of doors -- have gone onto bigger and better things I wouldn't actually want to do. Oh, sure, I'd love to be able to *say* that I went to Harvard business school, but I wouldn't actually want to go. It would bore me to tears, just like XXXX did. No, they can do that stuff; I'm glad for them. But I'm comfortable doing what I'm doing.

Second, these people are real. I knew them. I was one of them. I was their equal. And that is exactly the reality check I need when I'm being drowned by my object. She isn't real. She never was. That's all some fantasy world my mind created. But when it gets blown to smithereens and I have to come back to reality, reality is not empty. I am real. I have a past. I have done things.

I saw a video with XXXX and his little girl. It's been, what, 13 years I guess. When I saw him I laughed aloud. It's like not a single day has gone by. He's wearing his BDUs and his gold oak leaves but he's the exact same guy. The exact same goof who used to study with me and bitch incessantly when I got better grades than him.

The reality is not better than the fantasy because here I am better. It's better because it takes no mental gymnastics to justify itself. It is real.

I think she's awful. That's what I think about the actual person. I have no idea who she is. I mean, I know exactly who she is, but she doesn't at all resemble what I saw before. (Also, I don't know her.)

She's as base and awful as they come. There's no questioning that now. She's just a slutty drunk chick who'll do anything for attention. And for some unknown reason people think she's good and altruistic.

None of this matters. She isn't there. This is all going on in my head. It's projection. It seems like I'm the center of everything, but I'm obviously not. And that gets proven regularly, and every time it is it's emotionally crushing. If I could only get some clarity from them, but they won't budge. And neither can I. So we're left to deal with heaps of uncertainty and projection and all-around mental craziness. And the only thing you can do when faced with that type of clustermess is to go NC and try to wrestle back command of your mind.

But I don't know how to beat back this image that's in my subconscious. It's unceasing and I can't get directly at it to change it.

Why was this time so much worse? I spent like 4 hours last night enveloping myself in her past two months and today I feel like a complete train wreck. Couldn't sleep, head pounding with invalidating images of them together and her being a drunk slut. There's no solace in the others now either. They were asswipes when I tried to be decent. Remember that for next time: don't bother humoring fools; it only encourages them. Anyway, I really hope that this is just a 24-hour deep depression, because if it's not we've taken a massive step backwards.

I'm gonna go for a bike ride. Hopefully that clears the head a little. I felt like things were getting so much better and then I got full of myself and... well, pride before the fall. None of this matters. Regardless of what's delusional and what's real, none of it matters. They don't care. I'm not real. Anything that happened was just a dumb misunderstanding between two strangers and absolutely nothing more, certainly nothing to remember and define oneself by. Now I just have to figure out how to define myself.

I just wish someone would pat me on the head and say, "You're a good boy. You've done good. I know how your mind works and it makes things very, very difficult on you. But you did good." But instead they just take things from you when you're strong and chastise you when you're weak.

That was the whole point. Don't be embarrassed by the absurdity of the thought -- the absurdity of it was the point. It's insanity to think that it was about you, or those other things were about you. That's why you had to leave. Because you think absolutely everything is about you. And it's not. Next to nothing is about you.

What was it from M that I thought seemed obviously about me but then wasn't? Oh yeah, the thing about validation. Flapjack sauce. Be yourself. It all lined up. But guess what it was about? It was about her not getting any replies to her thing. Not about me at all.

What about this insulting thing? What about it? It's either not about me or it's written by an idiot who doesn't understand $#%^. It was all a misunderstanding -- their misunderstanding. Let 'em rot as far as I'm concerned. They never did a goddamn thing for me. Never considered me ONCE. Every single ######6 thing I did was in consideration of them, even when I chose myself over them. When the ###$ did they EVER consider me once?

And yet I'm the bad guy. Because they expected something of me I never offered nor implied. Well ###$ them. Let 'em rot. I did right by myself. They can live in blissful ignorance. It's what they do best. Idiots.

It's just like I expected. When it's happening it's great. The words only go in one direction so they are above dispute. But when other voices chime in it all falls apart.

It seems like everything is at me and about me. She's talking and whispering and writing and whatever. And so I get lost in the fog of grandiosity and respond. Oh, there are all sorts of justifications. Some even genuine. But as soon as the response isn't immediate and completely isolated to me, I see just how skewed my perspective was.

That's the thing. Unless there's something real to bounce the thoughts off of, I can't even tell what they are. It's like a fish doesn't understand he's lived his whole life in water until he flops up onto a boat.

But there's a good thing here. I wanted to leave it alright, but also close it. J needs it closed. As long as she's waiting she can't move on. It's hard, maybe even callous, but it's necessary. And M was the one I didn't want to hurt. She didn't ask to be here. She didn't ask to have all this stuff revealed as bunk. The other? Well, that's a different can of worms. Long-term I suppose it's for the best to leave it alright. In the short-term I'll probably come to regret it. We'll see.