bruises heal
"Just so. Opening your eyes is all that is needing. The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us, but the eyes see true. Look with your eyes. Hear with your ears. Taste with your mouth. Smell with your nose. Feel with your skin. Then comes the thinking, afterward, and in the way knowing the truth."
We sat at the bar and, inch by inch, I wrenched pieces of truth from him like broken teeth. None of it made a complete picture, but at least he was talking. Maybe I was finally asking the right questions. Maybe it was the rum. Maybe he actually wanted to tell me things. He told me things.
I didn't say much. I interjected every once in a while to make a point; but it seemed that as soon as I got him talking, I couldn't shut him up. I usually said something in order to try and give him a different perspective to similar situations - maybe something not so frustrating and negative - such were his stories. They were of his family and childhood and ultimately, his escape. I simply can't relate to such unhappiness from such a deeply-rooted source.
I remember quite a bit, but nothing so strong as my urge to weep. I feel obligated to pay attention to the way things make me feel - this made me want to weep. Not out of pity, necessarily, though that was certainly a prominent emotion, but out of longing.
I felt the overwhelming desire to hug my stepfather. What a complete and all-encompassing emotion it can be to feel gratitude for people who love you.
You don't care about me, darling. If you cared about me, or wanted to be serious with me, you'd ask me about my day, or my family, or the smallest things about my past or my habits or my tastes. I don't recall you ever asking me my favorite anything. You barely know me. I told you this: you are too self-focused and wrapped up in your own life and desires that you don't have room in your brain for a girlfriend. She would need time and consideration and care, and you can't do that right now - and that's okay. Just please don't misunderstand when I won't fill that undesirable position in your life.
It makes me wonder if Jeff and I ever actually talked about such things. Good God, I just don't remember. All I remember is that we were in love, and not much else matters. Good memories here and there, and our plans for the future, but I can't recall what a normal conversation was for us... probably Jeffrey talking about technology, which I never begrudged him at all. But I can't remember ever dating a guy who liked finding out about me simply because he was interested.
That's weird. Am I only attracted to men who are emotionally unavailable? And only them? I have no idea what a healthy relationship would mean for me. I can't wrap my head around it. I think my brain short-circuits every time it tries. That explains a lot. I guess I don't believe that I deserve to be happy.
Sometimes, I metaphorically slap myself into a bigger reality. My problems with my life are insignificant compared to world crises. Not thinking about it will not make it go away, but I go to work and buy my food and alcohol and surround myself with first-world luxuries, because it is the only thing I know. It kind of makes you wonder about the ways of life out there we DON'T know. Or maybe just don't understand.
We spend a lot of time looking but not seeing. Open your eyes, and the truth will present itself, but only if you are willing to see.
We sat at the bar and, inch by inch, I wrenched pieces of truth from him like broken teeth. None of it made a complete picture, but at least he was talking. Maybe I was finally asking the right questions. Maybe it was the rum. Maybe he actually wanted to tell me things. He told me things.
I didn't say much. I interjected every once in a while to make a point; but it seemed that as soon as I got him talking, I couldn't shut him up. I usually said something in order to try and give him a different perspective to similar situations - maybe something not so frustrating and negative - such were his stories. They were of his family and childhood and ultimately, his escape. I simply can't relate to such unhappiness from such a deeply-rooted source.
I remember quite a bit, but nothing so strong as my urge to weep. I feel obligated to pay attention to the way things make me feel - this made me want to weep. Not out of pity, necessarily, though that was certainly a prominent emotion, but out of longing.
I felt the overwhelming desire to hug my stepfather. What a complete and all-encompassing emotion it can be to feel gratitude for people who love you.
You don't care about me, darling. If you cared about me, or wanted to be serious with me, you'd ask me about my day, or my family, or the smallest things about my past or my habits or my tastes. I don't recall you ever asking me my favorite anything. You barely know me. I told you this: you are too self-focused and wrapped up in your own life and desires that you don't have room in your brain for a girlfriend. She would need time and consideration and care, and you can't do that right now - and that's okay. Just please don't misunderstand when I won't fill that undesirable position in your life.
It makes me wonder if Jeff and I ever actually talked about such things. Good God, I just don't remember. All I remember is that we were in love, and not much else matters. Good memories here and there, and our plans for the future, but I can't recall what a normal conversation was for us... probably Jeffrey talking about technology, which I never begrudged him at all. But I can't remember ever dating a guy who liked finding out about me simply because he was interested.
That's weird. Am I only attracted to men who are emotionally unavailable? And only them? I have no idea what a healthy relationship would mean for me. I can't wrap my head around it. I think my brain short-circuits every time it tries. That explains a lot. I guess I don't believe that I deserve to be happy.
Sometimes, I metaphorically slap myself into a bigger reality. My problems with my life are insignificant compared to world crises. Not thinking about it will not make it go away, but I go to work and buy my food and alcohol and surround myself with first-world luxuries, because it is the only thing I know. It kind of makes you wonder about the ways of life out there we DON'T know. Or maybe just don't understand.
We spend a lot of time looking but not seeing. Open your eyes, and the truth will present itself, but only if you are willing to see.