7
We exist in a headspace—and, within that headspace, there are subspaces where we also live—but the subspaces are only real when they are a function of our headspace. For example: i live in a headspace with AOC—and Alex, for me, is not necessarily a function of that headspace, and, therefore, she is not necessarily real. Nonetheless, we share a subspace that is necessarily complex and or imaginary. A lot of things can happen in a subspace that, although not real, nonetheless projects itself onto the headspace. It’s not a function of headspace—it’s a projection of the subspace on the headspace. Alex was a projection of a future on a headspace that depended, a little, on Alex, but that, nonetheless, would only become real when multiplied by a complex conjugate (the imaginary number with the opposite sign of the existing imaginary number), such as a projection of me or AOC. If that happens, however, the subspace becomes a function of the headspace, and, as such, all three of us become real.
Therefore, since AOC was already communicating with Alex, it was in my best interest to focus on AOC until AOC acted on Alex, incorporating her. Then Alex could share the headspace that AOC and I shared. It didn’t mean that we’d be together in a romantic way—but it did mean that we could communicate with each other across time and space. Basically we started out with two vectors, me and AOC; then we considered how much AOC and I were going in the same direction—and then we considered a new vector that incorporated the addition of the aforementioned two. That vector, then, was a projection of the headspace, and as such, it became real.
i can’t say that i love you now, that was Alex, and, in all likelihood, that was something she was coming to terms with—and, because I heard it, it also applied to me. In other words, we had two barriers: one, my impeachable status, and two, the weight she’d gain if she had a baby. Of course if i was already in love with Alex, and i was used to her, then, out of familiarity and love, that weight could be accepted, if not desired. But that wasn’t the case—I hadn’t spent the last decade getting to know her, and i didn’t know what the reasons behind her weight gain were.
Therefore, as of right now, i couldn’t compete with the partner she already had—unless that relationship was somehow the cause of her unhappiness. I suppose the possibility existed that she was trying to block my attempts to speak with her across time and space with food. Or maybe she’d recently quit drinking and sought solace in going to bed with a full stomach. I don’t know. But it was clear to me that i couldn’t take Alex away from her boyfriend, and, if, somehow, that happened, she’d tire of me in the same way that she tired of him and or herself.
Don’t say that (AOC) i was walking a fine line between what might otherwise be called romantic or disturbed. Now, i followed a strict routine that kept me happy and or undisturbed, but, if i somehow ended up doing something else, even just going to the grocery store, i could become profoundly unhappy. My thoughts could be invasive, which, might’ve meant that I was watching over and or responsible for AOC in her twenties, when, out of desperation, she lived a carefree and or off the wagon life. She might not have known her own strength—the traffic she channeled, and, because of that (an honest mistake) i had to pay for my time under the hood—trying whatever i could to reach a feeling of happiness and security—through almost any means necessary. The irony, of course, is that happiness is not something you figure out and then you have it—it’s about you and your security in the present moment.
my heart is true and maybe it was; i wasn’t going to wait for her, in any case, because there existed a profound possibility that she was with the right person, and I was meant, necessarily, for someone else. There were just too many unknown factors to allow this to become hopelessly romantic. for you! i wondered a little if AOC ever married or found a partner in her life (in the future)—it certainly seemed that I would never have sex again: on the bright side, i’d spent my life from trying and failing to have sex to not even trying—i’d lived, in fact, for many, many years without action.
it was easier for women to sleep around. All they had to do was put out—there was no chance of losing an erection, or, in fact, finding themselves unable to perform. They didn’t have to perform—all they had to do, if they wanted to sleep around, was let it happen. i’m not like that (Alex) and i believed her—she was a little too complicated to put out unless she was either drunk or in a relationship, and the Alex I’d observed didn’t seem to exist outside of reality in the way that many heavy drinkers do. For sure