I’ve been listening to a lot of REO Speedwagon lately. And “liking” a lot of pictures of Taylor Cole. Because she’s pretty, but harmless, you know? Someone out there in Celebrityland, making movies, and appearing on TV, being a world famous pop star. It’s sort of like, she isn’t really….real. Just someone to dream about I suppose. Or distract a broken heart. That was kind of what I was thinking anyway.
I guess I was trying somehow to mentally block out the fact that I have spent the last seven years of my life having what amounts to a delusional relationship with someone I haplessly and hopelessly fell in love with. From afar.
Someone who never knew that I existed. Someone who, along with her chic, stylish, hip and fashionable friends mock people like me for admiring people like her. For falling for people like her. For caring about people like her. For falling in love with her.
I thought–certainly hoped–it would be different. She was real, I knew she was real. I saw her there, in the flesh, I watched her play, so many times, I cheered her, we stood inches apart one day. Heidi. I saw her Mom tell her what to eat and when, and I saw her eat crap from a food truck. I took so many photos of her. She was so pretty, but God, she was a real, at least somewhat human, lunch-from-a-food-truck-eating-normal-girl. I was in love with her the second I saw her. But I never said hello to her. I was too scared of her. She was too beautiful. Too beautiful. The thought of what she would say, laughing, teasing, mocking….even as I stood there dazzled by her beauty, I could only imagine what she must have done with the carcasses of the guys who’d tread this same path before me.
For so long I wanted to believe I was wrong, that maybe she was different, that maybe she was really just a girl, waiting for her boy, on the other end of the line. And everything seemed so…real. I thought that, somehow, the videos and the messages were a way that two scared people were talking to each other, getting to know one another in this crazy, fucked up, cybershit-filled world we are doomed to live in. Whenever I would “blink”, with something, a video, a “like”, and comment”, a post, something, I thought she was blinking back.
That’s crazy, huh?
It is. Being semi-competent at what I do for a living I dug deep, and the things I discovered over the days, weeks, months and years I think I now simply have to chalk up to the fact that things aren’t the way I perceived, and she isn’t “blinking” back at all. From a practical standpoint alone, it wouldn’t seem she’d have any time to spend watching videos on youTube. So what I have come to think is that, maybe all along it’s just the fact that I fell in love with a “public figure” who has lusty, enthusiastic fans and business colleagues and connections and marketing people and agents and clients and suitors and whatnots who want to see pictures and video of her, for business reasons, or for for their personal “entertainment”, and they, not she, are the ones who watch. And knowing how I feel about her, they mock, and tease, and laugh, and along with her, think how silly and stupid and worthless it must be to be someone like me.
The Bonnie Tyler song Total Eclipse of the Heart is totally accurate. When we suffer a heartbreak of the worst magnitude, one like this, it is in fact all that matters. It consumes us. It makes us non-functional. It makes both our hearts and our brains…stop. I wish that weren’t true but it is.
I wish I could just throw myself away and be someone else.