dreams darker than death or night

In the darkest corners of my mind, the glass is neither half-full nor half empty; it is already broken.
In the darkest corners of my mind, the glass is neither half-full nor half empty; it is already broken.

Welcome to the start of a whole new category on your favorite blog.

I’m going to do something a little different with this post.  I’m going to shed some light on a pretty damn dark spot on my psyche.  Never let it be said that you beloved webmaster doesn’t put himself through the proverbial wringer.

I tend to think too much. In fact, I take over-analyzing things to new extremes.  I tend to visualize, or imagine if you will, conversations and confrontations before I have them.  Up to a point, I think this is a healthy thing.   It allows one to prepare for things  that may arise in a conversation.  My problem is that my mind tends to play out conversations and confrontations that, more often than not, never take place. In one sense, I find this to be very therapeutic.  It helps me to confront some of my worst fears.  The trouble is it forces me to see the worst in every situation.

Let me see if I can give some examples:

Even before we separated, I would find myself mentally playing out conversations, confrontations and arguments with the STBX.  Sometimes, things went as I expected them to; other times they actually went better than I prepared myself for.  Then of course, there have been occasions when things went far worse than I could have anticipated.

Today, The Auteur starts her annual 48 hour film contest.  Since he is now an executive producer, I’m almost positive that TP will make his presence known there entire weekend.  The Auteur still refuses to admit that TP has feelings for her – although in her own passive way she has conceded as much.  It makes me sick because he gets to have full access to this production because money talks.  Mr. Slate, her STBX, is also an executive producer, though he pretty much stays away until premiere night.  The Auteur is unwilling to admit this, but Slate is still controlling her, through his money.  That TP is now getting in on the act is just salt in my proverbial wound.

Last night, she accidentally sent me a Facebook invite to the premiere of their movie. We had already talked about this before:  she doesn’t want me to attend the premiere because she’s worried about things being weird with  Rhino in attendance and all. I understand and all, but it still hurts. I asked her last night if the Facebook invite was sent to me on accident.  After some stammering, she said yes, but then added that she never told me I couldn’t attend.

Early in our relationship, The Auteur once said that she thought I was just using her for sex.  It’s funny the way that shoes tend to end up on the opposite feet sometimes.  I’ll probably see her this weekend, per my scheduled days off at Meijer.  We would almost certainly sleep together.  But come Wednesday, I’m not going to be good enough to attend her movie premiere.  And that hurts.

When I first sat down to wrote this post yesterday, I thought that the whole TP thing bothered me the most.  At this moment, it’s definitely the Slate business.

This is all new territory for me.  And not even the darkest corners of my mind – the place that manifests my greatest fears and my worst nightmares – could have prepared me for feeling like this.

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