Thinking about her a lot. Wondering what she’s up to.
Wondering, of course, on what terms she might come back, and whether I’ll be available. I suspect not, but suspicions aren’t facts.
I don’t get mopey when my mind distracts me from my own concerns. Rather, I feel fundamentally alienated from myself. For what constitutes the unity of self is the idea “I have control over my environment.” One makes a decision, acts, and then sees the result in the world from one’s labors.
In this case, the lack of a result – or the hoping for another result, after one supposedly and perhaps actually final – means that one doubts whether there were actions or decisions made. A lack of decisions could mean that material to make a decision, thought, never really existed.
I’ve never thought about her the right way. That’s why things didn’t work, correct?
Again, there is no moping. Really. There’s just a fundamental concern about the limits of thought – c’est tout. And that concern is being echoed deeply in my actions right now: at some point, the results do matter, and I’m working hard on blog promotion so that way something good related to my acts and decisions might happen. That might not be a causal relation, but the mere fact something good happened allows for one to be certain about other sorts of actions, and then contemplate what exactly is good.
Maybe the deep problem about longing for love isn’t that it distracts from all the other things we have to do. Maybe the deep problem is that it is mirrored exactly in everything we have to do.
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