(no subject)
I think I can officially conclude that I suck.
And what I mean by that is: why aren't words ever adequate? I'm convinced (not totally, but compellingly) that if it were really possible to communicate we wouldn't be so terribly and viciously unhappy.
You'd think with all the things that it's possible to say, we'd manage to find the expressions that hit home. After enough tries, we'd have to stumble upon every angle of the truth. But the reality is, each new effort only moves me farther away from the things I want and need to say. Part of that is cowardice. Really, who among us is confident (or conceited) enough to look into the face of uncertainty and say, "you've made the wrong choice." Most of us can't even get that comfortable and self assured with people who've committed themselves. How am I supposed to set myself up for that scale of rejection? The smaller sized ones are excruciating enough. Even the ones we're expecting...
Still, can you imagine making your choices based on the worst possible scenario? That is what, throughout all of this, continues to floor me. My basic tendency is to err on the upside of what if. Squalor and misery and upset are with us every day. The possibility of those things is, in my mind, constant and so they are almost irrelevant as variables.
I hate that there's an incalculable distance between what I've decided and what I actually do.
I think I could change his mind. If I really argued. If I were more than just passively persistent. But I am not as courageous as I often pretend to be. And I remember fighting for my net- and how much that...hurt.
I don't know how to disengage.
And what I mean by that is: why aren't words ever adequate? I'm convinced (not totally, but compellingly) that if it were really possible to communicate we wouldn't be so terribly and viciously unhappy.
You'd think with all the things that it's possible to say, we'd manage to find the expressions that hit home. After enough tries, we'd have to stumble upon every angle of the truth. But the reality is, each new effort only moves me farther away from the things I want and need to say. Part of that is cowardice. Really, who among us is confident (or conceited) enough to look into the face of uncertainty and say, "you've made the wrong choice." Most of us can't even get that comfortable and self assured with people who've committed themselves. How am I supposed to set myself up for that scale of rejection? The smaller sized ones are excruciating enough. Even the ones we're expecting...
Still, can you imagine making your choices based on the worst possible scenario? That is what, throughout all of this, continues to floor me. My basic tendency is to err on the upside of what if. Squalor and misery and upset are with us every day. The possibility of those things is, in my mind, constant and so they are almost irrelevant as variables.
I hate that there's an incalculable distance between what I've decided and what I actually do.
I think I could change his mind. If I really argued. If I were more than just passively persistent. But I am not as courageous as I often pretend to be. And I remember fighting for my net- and how much that...hurt.
I don't know how to disengage.