Sarah Jane, the once shining light upon dark psychosis.

This begins with a tribute to a poem that is lost to time and highlights a depressive part of my life. It then explains what got out of that mental hole and ends right before my second go into hell.

“Sunday mornings’ refreshing depressions’ potent portent pierces its’ blinding branches through single pane and shutter, under valance, and through dusty drapery.  The harbinger omits its’ finale forewarning by orange glow reluctantly shown to my assumed dilated unopened eyes. I awake with this familiar foreboding and my body warms uncomfortably as dark shuttering thoughts cause overwhelming waves of panic and loneliness overtake me to the verge of uncontrollable wailing reminiscent of my first broken bone preceded by my first breath. Release! Please release me from this endless repeating torturous cyclone!”

I wrote a poem in 2002 that has been lost to time and I only remembered the first 4 words which are the first 4 words of this tribute. I only wrote this to reference the original poem in a much larger writing en-devour. I should be done with that by the end of the year.....hopefully.

I was extremely depressed but I turned the corner by meeting Sarah Jane Roberts. It was like God made a girl that was so irresistible that looking upon her face and a two minute conversation changed my life. Before she left to soon be on a plane traveling thousands of miles away she kissed me on my neck during a goodbye hug. Strange as it was, I can still remember the feel of her lips.

(Also; I read Conversations With God, [it's worth the read, massive crap or not] and worked my a*s off to become healthier)

I spent the next 6 years very much in love with her. This love survived through all the women I dated here in Arizona and ultimately keep those relationships from blossoming. I have made peace with all of it but used to regret all those missed opportunities with truly unique and beautiful women. Getting to know them was a true honor.

(Maybe due to a broken heart, but ultimately fortuitous, they all became mothers in their very next relationships. I hope they've made peace with what happened and do not hold on to animosity because of my confused actions. There's nothing worse than anger and pain retained through time. It's a sickness that can often snowball. I did love them all. I truly did, but not as much as my obsession occupied my mind.)

We spoke over the phone and saw each other once or twice a year. It was enough to dominate my heart. When we (I) were ready, we had a very serious conversation where I opened up about my true feelings about her.

(She seemed not to see it coming. Beautiful women often are either used to men hitting on them arrogantly or because being completely intimidated, they stay distant and don't bother. Love blossoming through mutual respect and friendship are concepts that seem lost to many of us but especially the stunning.  If it weren't the case, her and I would be together, maybe even through to today. She would be with someone that fell in love her mind and her youthful compassion after of course first becoming intrigued by her physical beauty. I'm still effected by her eyes. I still haven't experienced their equal.)

After the conversation paused for some much needed contemplation. She went to one of her cousins after we spoke and told him or her about what I said. She was truly moved and definitely pondering and searching her feelings regarding my proclamation of love. Which ever cousin she spoke to sold her a yarn that she believed due to how much it hurt her to hear such powerful lies. Her cousin told her that, what I said to her, was my "move." They said that I used it all the time to get with women. 

(I told two serious girlfriends that I loved them prior to ever meeting Sarah. Never had I shared my feelings with such conviction and honesty. It wasn't easy for me to say those things to her. I was frightened and shaking.

It killed me to hear her pain due to a betrayal that was never committed. I begged her to tell me who said those things and refuted them the best I could. It was good that she never told me.  If she did. I would have killed them. That's not an exaggeration. That was was the worst thing that has ever been done to me. I can't forgive it. I have tried. I still wonder who, and have it narrowed down to only two suspects. That speculation ruined my relationships with them as well as with others that could have done it. I never asked them though. I didn't want to know as much as I did to know. I know what I would've done and what would've happened to me as a result. Maybe someday if I get terminal cancer, I'll continue and get my confession that I burn for right now while writing this at 5:50 A.M. on June 27th, 2015.

The damage was done. It was too late. We were both betrayed and our future was compromised by jealously and pettiness. It was the end of our story.

I self destructed after that. I gave up. I survived by the skin of my a*s though.

(Things happen the way they are supposed to, not with explainable reason, but with inevitability. No matter how much pain or sadness I endured, I wouldn't change a thing. Tragedy can build character, if you let it, and humble our egos, cause us to become modest, and take less for granted. We must be cautious of bitterness and animosity and strive for sincerity.)

I almost forgot. 

Knowing her saved my life. Knowing her cousin nearly caused it to end. I survived. I am still compromised in some areas but stronger in the ways that truly matter. I have greater perspective I might ever have had if not for these terrible events.

Note to the one that forced our chapter closed: Stay away. Don't let me find out who you are. That's for me, not for you. Remain free if you can. Maybe you'll evolve one day. If you have already and have become expanded and amazing. Still keep you identity from me. I might offer you forgiveness... but maybe not.

Author's Note

This is a picture of me and Sarah Jane. It's a cell phone photo of a photo but hopefully you can kind of get how big her eyes were even though they're partially closed. After the tribute poem, I wrote a little story that I did not intent to write when I first posted it on Writers-Network. It was about a day ago when I wrote it but it's still a bit tender. This event along with a few others led me to a downward spiral that ended with heroine. I survived. Writing about and exploring these feelings truly screw with my head. As I got the picture to post on here something strange happened. I realized that I would probably do horrible unforgivable things to the populace to obtain her affections again. I'm going to close my eyes and try to forget all of this.