Have I become a stalker? Am I doomed to live a life controlled by an unconcerned other? Can it be that I am obsessed with the object of my affection, even as she is quite over me?
Earlier today, I found myself driving down familiar roads, south onto the Miller Highway, left on 108 to Waleska, past the College, through the four way stop, winding past lake Arrowhead, then up and right onto the dark black strips of asphalt called SR20. It’s a road I’ve driven hundreds of times, and today, I was on the way to an appointment in my adopted hometown of Cartersville, GA., scheduled for 11AM. Another follow-up appointment in my lengthening encounter with Social Security Insurance.
The natural course of the SR20 would take me near, not past the home of the woman I love. No, she’s no stranger, no one I saw in a Starbucks and followed out the door, no I spied walking out of Ingles, or at the Cartersville Family Medical Clinic – we both have the same doctor-no, she no stranger at all. And yet we are estranged, separated by age and culture, and by my cruel antics. Even though she has told me she no longer “felt the way she did,” and even though I stand in the convicted of treachery and have been offered no reprieve, I can not stop being in love with her. Even though I think my attentions do her no good.
Last week, I again tried to free her from the shipwreck I have become. I swore to myself to let her be, to let her find her own path, to take a road “not yet traveled,” to journey on without me. Last night, I sent her a message on facebook, not a public comment, but a private message, and God, did I intensely dislike my weakness in doing so. ” I miss you terribly?” What does that mean to someone who is over you, what does that say about my mental state. I, the alpha male, the Bull, whimpering, in confused pain. I regretted sending that message, I regretted her reading it, I want never again to be a cause of her pain. I must get over this obsession, this magnificent obsession, this feeling everyone has told me existed, but of which I have never truly understood, this place where I now dwell; this storm and thunder!
And so, from the far right lane heading south on SR20, I recklessly cut across traffic and aim down a peaceful country lane which will take me within view of her house, even as it takes me to my appointment. I swore last night, and again over and over this morning, in the car, on the road, that I would no do this, that I would not take the Springs road, not cut onto Center, not go by her home. I lied to myself and I am disappointed. I pretend that she cares, that seeing me would upset her in a wonderful way, that after missing seeing me for a week and a half, she’ll forgive me, welcome me back into her life. Ha! That’s not who she is, and all the more I love her for seeking her own way, even though I think she is wrong.
A knot tightens in my stomach. maybe he’s still there. Maybe the best man in her life is still waking up to her treasure, to a perfect life. What if I am seen by them, what if she unfriends me on Facebook! Would it be a blessing not to look at her picture every day, not to press a kiss against the screen, not to wish I was David, writing Psalms to a listening God, begging for redemption. I hold steady to the wheel, as I approach her home. I force myself to look straight ahead, but no: Why me god, why don’t I deserve her-don’t answer that, I know why…
Am I a stalker, deranged by love’s delusions? Why can I not look away from the windows behind which is hidden heaven. I would not ever hurt that which I love the most, but yet every day I sin against God; why is loving her different. Why do I fear hurting her; not physically, but in some other way, as I have obviously done by painfully inflicting on her an air of indifference, an apathy to what she once, she said, loved. If only I could believe that she no longer loves me, when she coolly looks at me as if I were a distant memory, if only I did not search for that glimmer of recognition, that welcome smile, that woman’s light that warms the true love’s heart.
I do not see it. I betrayed her, at least in her mind. She must have fallen out of love. Why do I care anymore? Why do I seek what is lost?
Because I fear I will never find it again.
I do not see her out in the yard, or in the driveway. Its Thursday, perhaps she’s sleeping late. I pass by the house, and I pass out of her unknown life. His car isn’t there. Maybe they argued. Maybe he proposed, maybe she is beginning to love him as I love her. Maybe baby she’ll be true. Maybe she is happy, or well on the way to becoming satisfied and peaceful and content. You see, I don’t know what she wants or needs. This essay is all about me and if I really new how to love her, if I really understood what it means to love her, I would be writing her story now as we live it.
I am not a stalker after all. I am, as always, a fool alone .