Wishful thinking Jan. 11, 2024
It appears I might have been wrong about closing the door to her Facebook site or it may have had nothing to do with me or what I’m posting.
I’m always jumping to conclusions when things change, and the sudden removal of items from the page, leaving only innocuous postings from last summer, I feared the worst.
She had been hitting on my site heavily leading up to the change, and some of the journal items I posted were a bit provocative, although not anywhere near as provocative as those posted much earlier.
Among those things removed was a close up photo of her face, dragging me back to those she used to post back in 2012, which also stirred me, as this one also did.
The assumption may have been wrong since this morning, she posted a similar photo which may or may not have been in reaction to my shutting down my postings for a day.
On top of that, when I resumed posting, my site got a hit immediately, although I can’t tell if it was her or not.
This cat and mouse stuff has always driven me crazy, just like her poems sometimes do, never a completely clear message, always with an edge of intrigue.
Back in the good old days (that were often full of pain), I used to think she used her postings of poems as a way of secretly communicating with me, saying things cryptically she dared not say more openly (a definitely egotistical presumption on my part). At the time, I suspected she might be doing this because she could not speak more opening due to the powers around her, people I thought (obviously mistakenly) that controlled her.
Again, my ego sold me on the idea that she still in some way still liked me or felt sorry for me, and to some degree regretted her own rage against me – all of which over the long years seems to me like wishful thinking.
Of course, she might simply be scared, and her shutting the door to her page a knee-jerk reaction. One of the aspects of her character that becomes clear from my poetry journal in May and June of 2012 is just how terrified she gets – echoing an old Kinks song about Celluloid Heroes, and how Marilyn should have been made of iron and steel, but was only made of flesh and blood.
As savvy as she thinks she is, she is also extremely vulnerable, something that completely shocked me back then, and perhaps still does.
Since I asked for a sign, I going to believe her posting of a picture after pulling down the old one may be a reaction to my shutting down my blog.
This whole idea of secret conversations has always been a fantasy, and yet, since I said I needed a message of any kind to say I should continue to post, I’ll take her posting of her photo as that, even though it is likely a product of my imagination.
I appreciate the picture, nonetheless.
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