You see, it’s like this. My replacements, my distractions, are running out of steam.
It’s not like I think I can get back to Lacan’s baby blob, that I think I need you to complete my life, or that you will somehow be more satisfactory an element to the alleviation of the vastness of the void, but rather that you just might be the impetus to fuel my goals of creation and the recording of a life worth recording.
I think it was Alison Bechdel that said she recorded her life to justify it, to consider it important. I need the flipside. Otherwise, to record is just depressing. Without you, the record of my life is without passion—or at least, without passion with direction. This gadding about doesn’t really do it for me—I’m much better with a larger, sustainable something into which to channel all my creative and passionate energy. It is vastly more fulfilling. That something, I think, right now, wants to be you. Or at least, my creative and passionate energy wants it to be you. But how can I get that? How can I get you into my life enough to serve this function? I don’t need all of you, all the time. I could just use you as a vessel with which to fuel my other endeavors. I’ve got quite a few, waiting for some grand transference. It wouldn’t have to take up all of your time. And I’d make it worth your while. I’d make you feel more appreciated, more amazing and gorgeous and god-like, more connected and useful and in sync with the universe, more loved than anyone else has ever made you feel. I’ve been meaning to practice expressing that anyway, but you can understand, what with its intensity, that I don’t want to do it without permission. So you could help me there, too. It’s a win-win. What do you say?