Jayne doesn't believe you want her.

Relationship issues in the ongoing story of a hypsographic soul. 

Last time I stopped by, she was pouring through online articles about horse manure, trying to understand what it should look like if it is from a healthy horse. She was pretty fixed on the computer screen, but I attempted to interrupt since I had stopped by for the purpose of talking and not just picking up the mended clothes. "So, how's the new lamp I made for the living room?" I probed, trying to get a sense of her mood.

    "It works well. Jenny is already in love with it. She can read all night long now." Jayne's gaze barely shifted as she responded. 

    "Do you think it will be of any use to you for your projects? I mean, I can change it to whatever will be useful. I made it for you." My response revealed a great deal of vulnerability. 

    "Listen,  Mr. Big Pants, I appreciate what you are trying to do. I think it is kind and sincere, and true as much as you understand yourself. Let's face it: you like me, at least you think you do, and that's great. But, the short of it is, I don't believe it's real and I'm not sure I will ever. Every experience I've had up to this point has me not believing that someone will in the end like me, love me. So, let's just get that out of the way here and now."

    I stood there expressionless as she made pronouncement after pronouncement of how she understood the world, relationships, and herself. I think a glaze of confusion started forming over my eyes at one point because she stopped, changed her expression of determination to one of compassion, with a cheery tone. 

    "Look, rabbit, you are very sweet," she returned. "But I just will disappoint you on all of the things you don't know about me but you imagine are wonderful.  I'm good and magical in the ways others aren't because I'm bad and subpar in the ways that people are usually decent. You understand? You like me for the ways I'm different now, but a little later on you'll expect stuff from me that is standard... un-different, and I won't be able to come through for you."

    Even when Jayne didn't make sense, something about the way her mouth moved and about the confidence she had in her own reasoning was captivating. I wish I could make her believe that my feelings for her were significant, but I had the sense that with someone as deft at language configuration as she was, my paltry idioms would shatter like cheap glass against the density of her analysis. The thoughts she shared, they were not ideas she had thrown together in the moment to deflect my emotional reaching. No, she had experienced real hurt. She had come to these conclusions after years of consistent results, years of consistent heartbreak echoed behind each word she shared, and there was nothing I could do about it.

     "Oh, little rabbit, your eyes, they're as big as a cartoon puppy's! Don't worry. We are still friends, with great affection for each other. I just want to see you happy, and I know that I am in no position to provide that happiness. How about a hug before you go?"

    And just like that, the person I loved ceased to exist. And I missed her.