Walk Like A Panther
My boss here asked me, when I told him that I was leaving in two months, if I was scared.
I pulled that string of handkerchiefs out of my pocket like a magician and examined each one in turn and scared wasn't among them.
I was scared when we moved to Viet Nam, but not for the reasons one would like to think and I didn't examine those feelings then. I've been looking back on them now and I know exactly what I was afraid of. Well, that's happened, so ... there ya go, and that wasn't so bad now, was it dear? Just like ripping off a band-aid, but I shoulda done it faster.
What I am feeling about all this is ... like I'm coming back to myself. Coming back home. No, not geographically. If I ever do find a geographical home that matches my insides it'll be a bloody goddamned miracle I think. No, I mean, coming home to that essential self that I abandon all too easily in certain situations. With men. I try to smooth over my rough edges ... adapt adapt adapt, don't stick out too much, don't attract too much attention, don't draw disapproval. He'll leave you. Especially if you're killing off all that special strangeness that brought him 'round in the first place.
I had forgotten to walk like I own the place. Me. Too many times in the past I've been told "you're too intense, you go to extremes, you're too much, you want too much" Emotionally. Sexually. Oooh, those two are tied up in a big freaky knot. Far too often, I've been subjected to that damned madonna/whore complex others like to slap on women. And I take that in and treat that projection like an instruction instead of stomping on it.
What's wrong with being intense? I used to be described as scary. What the hell happened to that woman? Not that I'd welcome a return of her draaaaaaahmas, but that intensity of being.
And that was one of the initial attractions with Trash, he wasn't scared of me, or at least he was man enough to say, "Bring it on, I can take it."
Until he shut off and I kept trying to fix and fix and fix ... and then I just shut down, to keep from feeling hurt every single day.
I've never been especially good at hiding my feelings, everything's right there at the surface. But I am really good at sublimating, really good at retreat, receding further and further back from the light so no one can read on my face the damage that's been done. I've been numb for some time now and as all sorts of raw nerves and synapses start lighting up in me, I'm thinking to myself, there ain't a damned thing wrong with going to extremes. I'd rather be intense and feel everything than how I've been the last few years.
I'm thinking I'd rather be alive than tamp it down. But man, how do people manage to walk around with all these... fucking emotions jangling around all the time? Christ, I totally fucking forgot what this felt like. How did I manage it before? It's like my skin can't hold it all in. And I can't turn it off, the switch got flipped somewhere and it's fused "on."
It doesn't really matter where I am physically, just so long as I get back to being a better version of that woman who scares the ever-livin' shit out of peoplemen*.
you're too intense/you go to extremes/you're too much/you want too much
No, I'm not, I'm at exactly the right intensity, I'm almost reset to my optimum temperature, thank you.
No, I don't, I go where I need to.
Define "too much."
No, I don't. I only want what I deserve, what's rightfully mine.
Somebody's gonna say, "Bring it on." And mean it.
Oooooh, and then I'll really snap the tether. Get the popcorn!
*Not that that's ever been the object mind, just an unintended consequence.
I pulled that string of handkerchiefs out of my pocket like a magician and examined each one in turn and scared wasn't among them.
I was scared when we moved to Viet Nam, but not for the reasons one would like to think and I didn't examine those feelings then. I've been looking back on them now and I know exactly what I was afraid of. Well, that's happened, so ... there ya go, and that wasn't so bad now, was it dear? Just like ripping off a band-aid, but I shoulda done it faster.
What I am feeling about all this is ... like I'm coming back to myself. Coming back home. No, not geographically. If I ever do find a geographical home that matches my insides it'll be a bloody goddamned miracle I think. No, I mean, coming home to that essential self that I abandon all too easily in certain situations. With men. I try to smooth over my rough edges ... adapt adapt adapt, don't stick out too much, don't attract too much attention, don't draw disapproval. He'll leave you. Especially if you're killing off all that special strangeness that brought him 'round in the first place.
I had forgotten to walk like I own the place. Me. Too many times in the past I've been told "you're too intense, you go to extremes, you're too much, you want too much" Emotionally. Sexually. Oooh, those two are tied up in a big freaky knot. Far too often, I've been subjected to that damned madonna/whore complex others like to slap on women. And I take that in and treat that projection like an instruction instead of stomping on it.
What's wrong with being intense? I used to be described as scary. What the hell happened to that woman? Not that I'd welcome a return of her draaaaaaahmas, but that intensity of being.
And that was one of the initial attractions with Trash, he wasn't scared of me, or at least he was man enough to say, "Bring it on, I can take it."
Until he shut off and I kept trying to fix and fix and fix ... and then I just shut down, to keep from feeling hurt every single day.
I've never been especially good at hiding my feelings, everything's right there at the surface. But I am really good at sublimating, really good at retreat, receding further and further back from the light so no one can read on my face the damage that's been done. I've been numb for some time now and as all sorts of raw nerves and synapses start lighting up in me, I'm thinking to myself, there ain't a damned thing wrong with going to extremes. I'd rather be intense and feel everything than how I've been the last few years.
I'm thinking I'd rather be alive than tamp it down. But man, how do people manage to walk around with all these... fucking emotions jangling around all the time? Christ, I totally fucking forgot what this felt like. How did I manage it before? It's like my skin can't hold it all in. And I can't turn it off, the switch got flipped somewhere and it's fused "on."
It doesn't really matter where I am physically, just so long as I get back to being a better version of that woman who scares the ever-livin' shit out of peoplemen*.
you're too intense/you go to extremes/you're too much/you want too much
No, I'm not, I'm at exactly the right intensity, I'm almost reset to my optimum temperature, thank you.
No, I don't, I go where I need to.
Define "too much."
No, I don't. I only want what I deserve, what's rightfully mine.
Somebody's gonna say, "Bring it on." And mean it.
Oooooh, and then I'll really snap the tether. Get the popcorn!
*Not that that's ever been the object mind, just an unintended consequence.