Two years ago I used to hook up with a guy that I was really into and I never got over whatever it was that I had with him. One day when he was in the shower, I was going through his phone because I was trying to figure out what we were. What I found was his "work notes" which turned out to be a journal. I was started going through it, and then didn't want to get caught so I emailed it to myself. I'm not sure if he ever found that I sent it to myself or not, but in the past 2 years, I have read it multiple times. This has left a really strong impact on me, and I've tried to "give the benefit of the doubt" to guys in my life. I've tried to see the world from the perspective of this man, and always wonder if I could have been the one to change his perspective. Last I checked, he became an officer in the military. I find that I never really got over him, and I'm ashamed to admit that a lot of times I fantasize about him when I'm doing things with my current boyfriend. I just don't understand how someone can be so happy alone. I know that emailing parts of his journal to myself was a grave act of mistrust and violation that only proves his point, but this writing drives me insane.

July, 22, 2022
Today, I fucked. I guess fucking is a reward for performance.
In the wild, usually when a male species wants to attract a female species of the same kind, they often have to put on some kind of a performance in order to attract a mate. Sometimes they have to display a dance act of some kind, sometimes they have to build a nest of some sort, sometimes they have to perform some kind of a whistling act to create some kind of a tune that attracts a mate. But it all boils down to one thing: Performance. In that, we humans are no different. Except when it comes to the performance of humans, the performance doesn't stop, it's often lifelong, or in the case of modern relationships where the relationships don't have any actual meaning, the performance spans the life of the relation until the relationship ends.

More often than not, it's the male who puts on this performative act. Whether this performance happens in the form of an act, or some sort of an identity expression that they pick up through their peers or sources of influence. Sometimes we write poetry, regardless of how terribly written it might be. Regardless of how intellectually stagnate a person might be, when the heart takes over, it speaks a different language. Sometimes, some of us are gifted with the ability to articulate even better than when we naturally speak. So there go: When we're infatuated by the appearance of a woman, we lose touch with reality and fall into the abyss of idealism. Personally, I speak of male-female, because I can't speak for the other crowds of people. I can't relate to the reality they live in, so maybe the performance is the same for male-male and female-female substrata, because this performance is what most species elucidate in their dichotomy. It boils down to one party needing to perform in order to win the other over, and then continue to perform in order to keep them.

But what I have noticed is that when we are by ourselves, the performance is absent. I can go about my day, about my school, about my work and not be conscious of any sort of performance taking place. But as soon as I'm in love, the performance manifests itself. The only difference between other men in that regard and myself is that I'm a better poet, but the performance is still there. Our performance leads to idealism and idealism leads to heartbreak because we end up putting someone the pedestals of infatuation. When the foundations of that pedestal break, so does the idealism, and so we find underneath that layer of idealism another person who also goes to the bathroom several times a day, who also has their own strengths and weaknesses, who also has bad breath in the morning, among other things. They're just humans, nothing more special than any other thing. My desire to eradicate the performance makes it impossible for me to submit or subject myself to a relationship, because I become aware of the performance immediately. The flowers, the chocolates, the letters, the anniversaries. Where someone else sees duty and merit, I see performance.

Maybe the performance that I keep alluding to is something that we are inherently okay with. One might ask "Why shouldn't I buy flowers to express my love?" But for me personally, I think I performed so many times, with so many different people that I became numb to it. I can think back to the first time I was "in love" or rather infatuated by a girl in middle school. It was my first time ever seeing another human so pretty to look at. In hindsight, the way I perceived her was the image of an angel. I couldn't even get myself to think anything bad about that girl even if I wanted to. Fast forward to today, I don't remember how many beds I have shared, how many people I've bought flowers and chocolates for. I don't know how many hearts I have broken and how many have broken my heart. Maybe the number of partners I've had in my life has been the reason for my indifference, because the pattern eventually manifests itself so clearly that it's impossible to unsee it: Perform and they stay. Fumble, and they leave. I find that people are not wired to give the benefit of doubt by default.

Sometimes, when a guy likes a girl, he might have the best of intentions, and wish to do everything right. Even if I call it a performance like a circus monkey, the performance itself is an attempt of good faith. If he makes a mistake or does not say the right action words, or inadvertently makes a mistake in some absolutely insignificant part of his genuine attempt and desire to "win her over," it's over. She does not give him the benefit of doubt or magically become aware of the fact that he's trying too win her approval. Regardless of how much approval or love there might have been in the beginning, one fumble is enough to bring down the foundation of the entire circus. She becomes indifferent and moves on to enjoy another monkey's performance. I've seen this in nature too, nature does not forgive, nature is all about efficiency and conservation. A bird might put on a spectacular display of talent in order to attract a mate. When she does show up, even a slight mistake in his performance is enough to drive her elsewhere. The difference is that animals aren't intelligent enough to recognize the design of this cage, and so the entire purpose of their lives is this performance. But as humans, we have the intellectual capacity to become aware of this cage, if we think that far. The first sign of freedom is to see that there is a cage in the first place. I see the cage.

I don't like attachments in any form. In fact I have been very deep in love as well, a kind of love wherein I didn't see reality beyond her. Everything was real to me as long as she was in the picture. Without her, reality became a logic error for me. I could not see a world without her. In my life, I've always tried to control my depth as a person, but once upon a time someone showed up who became the floodgates in my life. She contained my depth, in a good, and beautiful way. One might say they found their rock, but I had found an entire mountain. But the thing is, rocks break, mountains crumble, and floodgates also break. I found it strange that no sooner should a relationship happen to end, the person you perceived to be your mountain, reduces herself to a rock in someone else's collection of rocks and seashells they found on the shores of a beach. So my indifference to the concept of romantic love is not drived out of inexperience, but of a loss I could never articulate as profoundly as I can elucidate in writing. After her, I searched for her in everyone else. By the time I came to terms with the fact of the unique character of everybody, I had already become numb, and it's this numbness I carry with me. Ironically, I found that when I fought tooth and nail to preserve love, love fled. When I became indifferent to it, I found myself sharing many beds.

The performance that I was unaware of in my life, eventually manifested itself. I found myself performing, doing the right things, saying the right things, and keeping tabs on pieces of the system of facade that is romantic love. When a part wears out or breaks, it should be fixed and accounted for, otherwise the whole system falls apart. Sometimes, some chance encounter takes me back on to a different bed that I share with somebody for that moment, and in doing so, sometimes they want "more" than what I'm willing to offer. They give me a free ticket to play a part in the same circus that I left behind. Once upon a time, I reached for the stars in search of God, and I ended up finding love. After that, I stared into the abyss and found myself.