time has the ability to bury things. old hurts, wounds, scars, resentment, pain. all the things that crop up between two people who inhabit so much of the other's space. Some things get dealt with and moved passed. Some never get mentioned, they are held silent, in our heads, in our hearts. time buries them equally, till if you're lucky, you forget they exist to some extent.
but unlike real sand, it does not take effort to dig things up between people. it can be so easy, a word or two, and in a flash, you feel as if no time has gone by. or the bittersweet reminder of things that will never leave you completely. It is an ache there is no cure for. you just acknowledge and wait for time to bury it again. or decide that it is too much, and let the person go. leave everything buried. A graveyard to mark who you were to each other once.
sometimes you dance around a buried hurt. One person reluctant to share it, speak it aloud, make it real, have to deal with it. The other completely in the dark, they just keep poking till it pops up, till they can understand what keeps the distance firmly in place. till they understand why they can never really reach the other person, why they can never really see quite all of them anymore. And if they are sucessful, finally things spring into place, everything shifts, becomes sharper around the edges. And you have to deal with the reality of whatever it is. whether the other person knows it or not. and so I am.
he looked at me and said.."well, it's not like I'm going to follow you wherever you go". and I really wanted to say why not? I really wanted to question that belief. why not me?
a light has dawned. all the words he has said, in the moments of weakness, of vulnerability. all the dreams, the plans for the future. the countless hours I have sat listening. what do they mean now?
he has made his choice. over and over again. it has just taken me this long to understand that. now all that's left is for me to understand why wasn't it me? when it should have been. and to decide if I will continue to choose him above all others.
Do I add another graveyard? or just a tombstone?
7.22.2004
7.15.2004
7.14.2004
when it rains, it pours
I've been told that people liked this better in the beginning, because the entries were more real, more about me, and though I don't like to admit it; they are right. In the beginning I did not have to worry about the consequences of my actions. Slowly this has become more about what I feel other people will be ok with and not what I really want to write. But the ground has become shaky and I don't know the ramifications of anything I might say or do anymore. So it has come down to self censorship, which I abhor, or just processing everything internally. I tend to lean toward the latter naturally, but in true me like fashion I am choosing neither one at the moment. So here's the good old college try, the contents of my head as they come.
There is so much going on, happening, taking shape, taking form. And at the same time, nothing much is happening. And that's really the most accurate way to describe my life for more months than I would like to count. To process the emotions that are actually taking place I tend to need to disengage and really look at myself. And most nights I am not able to do that. My attentions are required elsewhere. And quite honestly I probably don't want to look. But lately I've been moving more and more towards disengaging. Because my level of frustration is reaching a point where it's leaking out onto other people.
I've always sectioned off people in my life, in reference to what they can know about me. Or what I will share with them. Keeping the different sections quite separate. Living a splintered life is hard on a person, it's even harder when you are the one that insists on splintering it. I quite often find myself, even if I want to speak, having no one to tell it too. Because while they may be perfectly happy to listen, the backstory, the history I would have to relate in order to have them be on the same page as I am. In order to have them really understand, is too much effort for a moment of weakness. But more and more the dichotomy is wearing thin and I would enjoy someone who I could talk to. The problem being with this is that once you bring someone in, inevitably at some point it is them you have to talk about, and then where do you go? someone else? too much talking behind backs for me, when it should be communicated to the person you're talking about in the first place. Perhaps I'll finally start feeling better about putting all my eggs in one basket and seeing which ones don't crack.
Do you think you reach a point where death doesn't mean anything anymore? I've seen it too much, dealt with it's after effects, heard it from other people, held them while they fell apart too much to process it anymore. My friend's cousin died this morning, and I found myself struggling to respond with anything that was halfway helpful. It's probably not the healthiest disposition to have, but I'm somewhat reluctant to change it. Sometime soon I'll be facing it again, and I would rather be numb for it, than "normal". Depsite how gruesome that may seem.
What do you do when you have lost common ground? When you can no longer touch them though they might be sitting right next to you? What do you do when there is nothing left to say? When you don't want to push for scrutiny and you don't want to be scrutinized? What do you do when you learn more from someone else than you do them? Where do you go when you've forgotten where you began? Do you keep talking even when they don't believe a thing you say? Do you push for definition, just to make your life easier? Do you become what they want you to be? because they need it? because it's maybe, the only thing you can give? Where is the line between banter and lies? How do you explain frustration when all they will see is recrimination? How do you point out double standards and blatant falsehoods? Why bother? How do you see past your own jealousies to the point of the whole matter? How do you stop feeling second best? How do you stop it mattering? because it really shouldn't. How do you learn to accept as it comes? As it goes?
Do you ever feel like you're moving entirely too fast and there is nothing you can do to arrest the motion? And that even if you could, you're not so sure you want to. Have you ever felt that you are living with lies no matter how hard you try to embody truth? That you dread the time when people realize it as well, you dread it with a stomach churning sort of worry, but you welcome it at the same time, because then you no longer have any appearances to keep up, and when they leave (and they will, in some way, shape, or form) you will be able to say, I knew it all along. Triumphant even in your misery.
I dive right into situations I am not familiar with. I am a risk taker. I don't want to think about it, I just want to do it, and see what happens. That doesn't mean that I don't think, it's just that I choose, and choose rather quickly to not pay attention to the consequences. More and more I find myself almost drowning in the deep end. I would like to take my time, but it seems I am not capable of it. And sometimes when I am not able to cram my head with other things, the what ifs come to call. The inevitable outcome that will be quite painful, and in some scenarios, detrimental to my future. Assuming I have one. This is why I don't gamble, I will always take the long shot. Just to see. People mistakenly believe I have no hope or faith, quite the opposite is true, I have too much.
There is a difference between not wanting someone to change, and accepting them, or things about them as is. Having the former does not always precipitate the latter. And if you really really think about that. it's a scary realization.
I've begun to tell people that I'm leaving. And while I've always known come september I was leaving. I'm sure most people didn't believe me. I'm quite positive I'm making another bad choice in a string of them, but it's the whole headfirst affliction I have going on. why not? My father was the biggest surprise. Considering the amount of interaction our entire relationship consists of. That he was unhappy caught me off guard. I had always assumed he resented my presence. Though whether that was a holdover of my feelings from when I was a child or bore a hint of truth, I don't know. That he wants me to stay, I have no idea what to do with. I'm sure my mother feels the same, but she resigned herself long ago to losing us all. And for the most part, she wants that. Though there is a core of resentment that I can't really hold against her. I've got two months to get to a point where I feel ok leaving. And I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen. Too much left undone. Left unsaid. Too much left unknown about where I'm going and what I'm doing.
Boo has always known, he knows when I say something is going to happen, it is. But really grasping that is another thing. We have spent the majority of our lives apart now. And it never changes, when I am gone, he misses me, and I am left to deal with the phone calls, phone calls that take a toll on my conscience as well as my emotions. We miss so much of each other's lives. But when I am in a position to have us be closer, he grates against it with everything he has. I don't understand, to some extent I don't even care anymore. I listen to him waffle back and forth about leaving. Listen to him say he would come with me, just to know that he will change his mind again. Listen to how he wants to leave here, but when the time comes to do something about it, he flakes. I understand. I understand his motivations probably better than he does. But it doesn't stop my frustration with the whole situation. Or the fact that this separation might be the one we cannot gap. And where do we go from there?
these are the contents of my head...
There is so much going on, happening, taking shape, taking form. And at the same time, nothing much is happening. And that's really the most accurate way to describe my life for more months than I would like to count. To process the emotions that are actually taking place I tend to need to disengage and really look at myself. And most nights I am not able to do that. My attentions are required elsewhere. And quite honestly I probably don't want to look. But lately I've been moving more and more towards disengaging. Because my level of frustration is reaching a point where it's leaking out onto other people.
I've always sectioned off people in my life, in reference to what they can know about me. Or what I will share with them. Keeping the different sections quite separate. Living a splintered life is hard on a person, it's even harder when you are the one that insists on splintering it. I quite often find myself, even if I want to speak, having no one to tell it too. Because while they may be perfectly happy to listen, the backstory, the history I would have to relate in order to have them be on the same page as I am. In order to have them really understand, is too much effort for a moment of weakness. But more and more the dichotomy is wearing thin and I would enjoy someone who I could talk to. The problem being with this is that once you bring someone in, inevitably at some point it is them you have to talk about, and then where do you go? someone else? too much talking behind backs for me, when it should be communicated to the person you're talking about in the first place. Perhaps I'll finally start feeling better about putting all my eggs in one basket and seeing which ones don't crack.
Do you think you reach a point where death doesn't mean anything anymore? I've seen it too much, dealt with it's after effects, heard it from other people, held them while they fell apart too much to process it anymore. My friend's cousin died this morning, and I found myself struggling to respond with anything that was halfway helpful. It's probably not the healthiest disposition to have, but I'm somewhat reluctant to change it. Sometime soon I'll be facing it again, and I would rather be numb for it, than "normal". Depsite how gruesome that may seem.
What do you do when you have lost common ground? When you can no longer touch them though they might be sitting right next to you? What do you do when there is nothing left to say? When you don't want to push for scrutiny and you don't want to be scrutinized? What do you do when you learn more from someone else than you do them? Where do you go when you've forgotten where you began? Do you keep talking even when they don't believe a thing you say? Do you push for definition, just to make your life easier? Do you become what they want you to be? because they need it? because it's maybe, the only thing you can give? Where is the line between banter and lies? How do you explain frustration when all they will see is recrimination? How do you point out double standards and blatant falsehoods? Why bother? How do you see past your own jealousies to the point of the whole matter? How do you stop feeling second best? How do you stop it mattering? because it really shouldn't. How do you learn to accept as it comes? As it goes?
Do you ever feel like you're moving entirely too fast and there is nothing you can do to arrest the motion? And that even if you could, you're not so sure you want to. Have you ever felt that you are living with lies no matter how hard you try to embody truth? That you dread the time when people realize it as well, you dread it with a stomach churning sort of worry, but you welcome it at the same time, because then you no longer have any appearances to keep up, and when they leave (and they will, in some way, shape, or form) you will be able to say, I knew it all along. Triumphant even in your misery.
I dive right into situations I am not familiar with. I am a risk taker. I don't want to think about it, I just want to do it, and see what happens. That doesn't mean that I don't think, it's just that I choose, and choose rather quickly to not pay attention to the consequences. More and more I find myself almost drowning in the deep end. I would like to take my time, but it seems I am not capable of it. And sometimes when I am not able to cram my head with other things, the what ifs come to call. The inevitable outcome that will be quite painful, and in some scenarios, detrimental to my future. Assuming I have one. This is why I don't gamble, I will always take the long shot. Just to see. People mistakenly believe I have no hope or faith, quite the opposite is true, I have too much.
There is a difference between not wanting someone to change, and accepting them, or things about them as is. Having the former does not always precipitate the latter. And if you really really think about that. it's a scary realization.
I've begun to tell people that I'm leaving. And while I've always known come september I was leaving. I'm sure most people didn't believe me. I'm quite positive I'm making another bad choice in a string of them, but it's the whole headfirst affliction I have going on. why not? My father was the biggest surprise. Considering the amount of interaction our entire relationship consists of. That he was unhappy caught me off guard. I had always assumed he resented my presence. Though whether that was a holdover of my feelings from when I was a child or bore a hint of truth, I don't know. That he wants me to stay, I have no idea what to do with. I'm sure my mother feels the same, but she resigned herself long ago to losing us all. And for the most part, she wants that. Though there is a core of resentment that I can't really hold against her. I've got two months to get to a point where I feel ok leaving. And I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen. Too much left undone. Left unsaid. Too much left unknown about where I'm going and what I'm doing.
Boo has always known, he knows when I say something is going to happen, it is. But really grasping that is another thing. We have spent the majority of our lives apart now. And it never changes, when I am gone, he misses me, and I am left to deal with the phone calls, phone calls that take a toll on my conscience as well as my emotions. We miss so much of each other's lives. But when I am in a position to have us be closer, he grates against it with everything he has. I don't understand, to some extent I don't even care anymore. I listen to him waffle back and forth about leaving. Listen to him say he would come with me, just to know that he will change his mind again. Listen to how he wants to leave here, but when the time comes to do something about it, he flakes. I understand. I understand his motivations probably better than he does. But it doesn't stop my frustration with the whole situation. Or the fact that this separation might be the one we cannot gap. And where do we go from there?
these are the contents of my head...
7.03.2004
who knows?
Trading the sun
for the moon
trying to counteract
the fact
that your night
is just beginning
while mine
is drawing to a close
borrowed time
rushed
stolen
squeezed between
the have to's and musts
when is too much
too much?
when is too much
never enough?
Questions I need you
to answer.
The future
is unclear
as always
and there are some things
I despair
in knowing,
even more
to say aloud
to make them right
Uncertainties
like pearls
in their infancy
start small
and grate
and chafe
molding
into something
else entirely
threaded carefully
on a string
tangled in my mind
if I were less of a coward
I would seek your
reassurances
if I were more of
an optimist
I would not need them
in the middle
of the night
when l pour out
these thoughts to you
a tidal wave
of vulnerabilities
remember that
I need the truth
more than
I need my delusions
however painful.
be the sun
when I can only see the moon.
for the moon
trying to counteract
the fact
that your night
is just beginning
while mine
is drawing to a close
borrowed time
rushed
stolen
squeezed between
the have to's and musts
when is too much
too much?
when is too much
never enough?
Questions I need you
to answer.
The future
is unclear
as always
and there are some things
I despair
in knowing,
even more
to say aloud
to make them right
Uncertainties
like pearls
in their infancy
start small
and grate
and chafe
molding
into something
else entirely
threaded carefully
on a string
tangled in my mind
if I were less of a coward
I would seek your
reassurances
if I were more of
an optimist
I would not need them
in the middle
of the night
when l pour out
these thoughts to you
a tidal wave
of vulnerabilities
remember that
I need the truth
more than
I need my delusions
however painful.
be the sun
when I can only see the moon.
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