matthew's apotheosis

friday 21 january 2011
turners trogs

~~~ Has he reached it yet, I wonder? That glorious day when he can finally see himself as, if not an actual god, at the very least some dazzling sort of macho hero-saint. Because that, according to my senses of him, is what he's after. It's what his ego needs, and needs frantically: to elevate himself above the rest of us, above his undercover colleagues; far, far above the norm. He can't, without this transforming elevation, see himself as valuable and meaningful. ~~~

You don't know how difficult it is to write about him. I have to. There's no way out. I'm working on a book that includes him, and words he said to me, and things he did. This underworld that Matthew pulled me into on the heals of my illegal eviction is part of the human behavior, directed precisely at ME, that I address in the book I'm slowly working on. I must write about him. Spite and Malice, composed of blog posts, and because of that book, I have to write about him. The book is one part of the history, the truth that I want to leave behind me when I die. But you honestly don't know how hugely difficult it is to write about people whom I consider to be evil. No, I don't believe in god or the devil, heaven or hell, but I do believe in human evil. I believe that most of us have this evil in us, including myself. It's what you do or don't do with it that is the telling thing, the defining thing.

Matthew's quest for transcendence to a level far above the rest of us; his ego's insatiable need for gratification. For the first time ever, Matthew stayed out of my face for four whole months. From 2 September to 31 December. When he did this, of course I was very grateful, and I also thought it was just another of his steps on the way to glory. I thought he had finally, after two years, decided to honor my request that he stay away from me, believing that if he honored this request to stay completely away from a woman he loves, it would add to his superiority and his hero-hood.

Well, whether it was another of his steps to glory or not, it seems to be over. The last three times I'v gone to Greenfield (Dec 31, Jan 4, and yesterday), he's put his carcass in front of my face again, knowing full well that just seeing him, even if he doesn't speak, causes me an anxiety attack. What a feeling of personal and male-ego power that must give him, that knowledge that just the sight of him will ruin my entire day.

He calls what he feels for me love. But what Matthew Lacoy feels bears no resemblance whatsoever to any definition of love that resides in MY heart. What Matthew feels for me is born of his ego, and born of pheromones, which we cannot control. His pheromones and my pheromones seem to hit it off real well. But love is made of more than reactions of invisible chemicals collected in the skin. At least for me it is. For me love is also made of kindness, and tenderness, and loyalty, and a certain amount of self-sacrifice. He has almost NEVER displayed any of those qualities in his treatment of me. Truth is another creature that belongs in love, and Matthew has only ever given me truth in very tiny and very infrequent doses.

I both love him and despise him. Bifurcation is all that's possible for me with people I love who consistently treat me badly. I hope one day to be cured of the love, but have no desire at all to be cured of the loathing.

Once he attains his apotheosis, if he hasn't already, he must strive and struggle daily to keep it. What a way to exist. What a waste. What a lot of ego-driven crap.
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