mimicking a drunken heartbeat
something i've come to understand about myself is that i don't try hard enough to "fix" when a misunderstanding occurs between myself and someone i love or at the very last care for. when they misinterpret something done or said or an interaction, i...let it go. too often. always, now. i've carried myself to a place where such things do not demand my remedy, or even a flimsy band-aid. i read adam's story too many times, memorizing, forcing, over and over. that there's not much sense in trying to make some one else see your point of view, or how things collided in your own world when it whatever happened, when blood fell when glass vases shattered when there were salty TENDRILS. and then a face turns looks away, and then, the other. and again, and another. and the inperceptible (?) lift and lilt of your breast as you crumple and let it go. i am too good at letting it go.
and it has little to do with the person's resonance near my heartbeat. it's people i adore, it's people i love fiercely, it has always included these. still i let it go. especially maybe even.
is it apathy? or something slightly, only slightly different, a twinge over to the side the corner, a sense of resignation or innate tragedy in every movement.
?
either way, and any way, that is what i need to examine, and perhaps patch or mend or restore or...ah. the choice and will to DOING-ence of not only fighting or struggling to share something clearly with those i love, but doing so even when i know it's fruitless and futile.
perhaps this has something to do with the dreaded l-word, "love" yesisaidit.
have to get back the feeling, sense at times appropriate of, i'm going to make you know. despite knowing we cannot, really. because. i have to do more than just this, consistent caring in the mind.
and it has little to do with the person's resonance near my heartbeat. it's people i adore, it's people i love fiercely, it has always included these. still i let it go. especially maybe even.
is it apathy? or something slightly, only slightly different, a twinge over to the side the corner, a sense of resignation or innate tragedy in every movement.
?
either way, and any way, that is what i need to examine, and perhaps patch or mend or restore or...ah. the choice and will to DOING-ence of not only fighting or struggling to share something clearly with those i love, but doing so even when i know it's fruitless and futile.
perhaps this has something to do with the dreaded l-word, "love" yesisaidit.
have to get back the feeling, sense at times appropriate of, i'm going to make you know. despite knowing we cannot, really. because. i have to do more than just this, consistent caring in the mind.