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Nov. 6th, 2013 06:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kingtycoonSome Real-Talk Now.
It's autumn. Well and truly, the sky turns colors that you forgot you knew how to see, the leaves are smudgy, rain-clouded abstractions, rusty clouds under clouds. The way the streetlights work on the rain-puddles everywhere makes the little area we inhabit a few meters above the ground seem closed in like a dollhouse. Everything seems smaller and more massive, the weight of objects pulls together and touch, temperature - they're enough to convey information, vast illimitable and true. It's the Spring I always pine for, the Spring is when I come alive, but the Fall is when I know things.
I went away to see, and I saw. How the other people live, who aren't bound and held, who haven't gained that bit of fear that comes from being needed. I saw for myself what it is to be really alone - because that's when you're surrounded by the people you chose to be surrounded by, that's when you're in the crowd and of it. I saw what it is that I could be doing and who I could be doing it with. I saw that I am not a person who can live for long in that mode, that I cannot for long stand to be in myself without the burden of certain demands to hold me fast to the world's surface.
There was this conversation we kept having, it kept returning to this - "What's the thing, the center of you, that guides what you do and who you are?" I thought on this, a lot, and remembered that long ago I realized what it was, and what drives me to do anything and that's duty. My responsibilities to others, that's who I am, in the end. You'd have to a ways to find someone with less interest in themselves than me and I might even be kind of interesting, but it's not my preoccupation to be that, it's by accident - it's just a thing that happens. What I wish for, is to be dependable & true. I try.
So this comes back to love. Love is always on everyone's mind it's a thing that's mentioned to me, not just in passing but with a serious breathlessness that I can't answer. Love is, to me, now, a dangerous betrayer. See, you have love, I have love, a lot, and it's a trap, for me - it's a trap - a seemingly endless maze of people and places that I endure, tolerate, never cherish, all because of love, because I have that, I'm stuck. Would I be in Cleveland? Would I be in this job? Doing these things? I would not. I would definitely have adventured off, long ago. Agatha needs me, and I need that in my life for me to live it. Agatha needs me and I love her so I go into the snake-nest every week, I put up with the worst phone calls, the bad behavior all of it, I stay close with my family who I don't want to be that close to, I stay here, in this city I don't want to stay in. Me, myself - I am a prisoner in my life, which I do not love, or like or have any real connection with - because of Love. A lot of Love. It's worth it, this isn't about that. It's not. I promise.
It's the aversion - trained in you understand, how do I let myself get into that? Go down that path into bottomless trust and capture? I can't/don't - not easily, not idly. It comes up, breathlessly, Love, and I think: I don't do that. I think. I have despair instead. Despair is a more faithful thing, true hearted, it won't flee you in your time of need you understand & it leaves you be when you want to go and do what you want to go and do. Despair has always been kinder to me than love, so I'm there, in Despair.
Spring is life, hope, a coming alive. Fall is knowing. Really knowing, seeing that shining dollhouse path and following it a step behind your heart.
But I think, or felt, that I am brave enough now, I think I am. Like I would do it again, like I'm not just seeking company or distraction, but that really, now - truly, it'd be good to have Love, like I could do it, I would make the effort that's needed, I would be right, to someone I would be right more often than I was wrong. I can tell, I think the scab is hard enough, I think I can see the Springitime coming.
It's autumn. Well and truly, the sky turns colors that you forgot you knew how to see, the leaves are smudgy, rain-clouded abstractions, rusty clouds under clouds. The way the streetlights work on the rain-puddles everywhere makes the little area we inhabit a few meters above the ground seem closed in like a dollhouse. Everything seems smaller and more massive, the weight of objects pulls together and touch, temperature - they're enough to convey information, vast illimitable and true. It's the Spring I always pine for, the Spring is when I come alive, but the Fall is when I know things.
I went away to see, and I saw. How the other people live, who aren't bound and held, who haven't gained that bit of fear that comes from being needed. I saw for myself what it is to be really alone - because that's when you're surrounded by the people you chose to be surrounded by, that's when you're in the crowd and of it. I saw what it is that I could be doing and who I could be doing it with. I saw that I am not a person who can live for long in that mode, that I cannot for long stand to be in myself without the burden of certain demands to hold me fast to the world's surface.
There was this conversation we kept having, it kept returning to this - "What's the thing, the center of you, that guides what you do and who you are?" I thought on this, a lot, and remembered that long ago I realized what it was, and what drives me to do anything and that's duty. My responsibilities to others, that's who I am, in the end. You'd have to a ways to find someone with less interest in themselves than me and I might even be kind of interesting, but it's not my preoccupation to be that, it's by accident - it's just a thing that happens. What I wish for, is to be dependable & true. I try.
So this comes back to love. Love is always on everyone's mind it's a thing that's mentioned to me, not just in passing but with a serious breathlessness that I can't answer. Love is, to me, now, a dangerous betrayer. See, you have love, I have love, a lot, and it's a trap, for me - it's a trap - a seemingly endless maze of people and places that I endure, tolerate, never cherish, all because of love, because I have that, I'm stuck. Would I be in Cleveland? Would I be in this job? Doing these things? I would not. I would definitely have adventured off, long ago. Agatha needs me, and I need that in my life for me to live it. Agatha needs me and I love her so I go into the snake-nest every week, I put up with the worst phone calls, the bad behavior all of it, I stay close with my family who I don't want to be that close to, I stay here, in this city I don't want to stay in. Me, myself - I am a prisoner in my life, which I do not love, or like or have any real connection with - because of Love. A lot of Love. It's worth it, this isn't about that. It's not. I promise.
It's the aversion - trained in you understand, how do I let myself get into that? Go down that path into bottomless trust and capture? I can't/don't - not easily, not idly. It comes up, breathlessly, Love, and I think: I don't do that. I think. I have despair instead. Despair is a more faithful thing, true hearted, it won't flee you in your time of need you understand & it leaves you be when you want to go and do what you want to go and do. Despair has always been kinder to me than love, so I'm there, in Despair.
Spring is life, hope, a coming alive. Fall is knowing. Really knowing, seeing that shining dollhouse path and following it a step behind your heart.
But I think, or felt, that I am brave enough now, I think I am. Like I would do it again, like I'm not just seeking company or distraction, but that really, now - truly, it'd be good to have Love, like I could do it, I would make the effort that's needed, I would be right, to someone I would be right more often than I was wrong. I can tell, I think the scab is hard enough, I think I can see the Springitime coming.
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