What do tod when so many emotions and feelins and sesations crowd up within me, seeking flow, seeking outlet, expression, freedom, projection? They pile up right by the exit door, waiting for it to open, begging for a ticket out. The air gets stuffy and drowned, how did all these emotions get here? They were flowing. They used to go in and out whenever they pleased. And now suddenly they pile up, they sit, they wait. By the door. And that piece of my heart is now heavy, so many emotions piled up, wanting to go that way. Why can’t they? Why won’t they swim?
They start to. These words… the solid door has become a fine filter wall, and now my emotions push against the filter, seeping out colored spaghetti strips of want, too-late speech, left-out feeling, disattention, disinterest by others, silent frustration, and th efeeling of wanting to hug everyone at once but not having sufficient nor long-enough arms to do so. They all squeeze through, slowly, word by painfully slow word, in struggling relief. They do. They flow. But ohhhh so slow……..
Like so many times before.
Used to it? I don’t want to be used to it. I… … have no idea what I want. A social group, I found it. People that will accept me no matter what I say or do/ I found them? “No matter” might be too strong a phrasing. Receptive, for sure. They’re around! They’re here! Why, then…. such void and pain and lack of fulfillment?
Feeling of left-out. Again, not your first time, sailor. But I don’t WANT to numb myself to it! I want to express it in fullness, in a primal, unabashed flow. Bashfulness remains, though. Office? Cry here? Yes, OK. Talk to someone here? (Go to a psychologist”, they’ll say. No. Friend! I want a friend.
Who?
Alex.
Will he want to listen to sob stories?
That’s what I am so afraid of. That people, upon listening to my many sob stories, will refject me and leave me hanging out further out in the void. And ohh I can imagine that would hurt.
But things hurt. Now. Even.
I just….. it feels like an ivnvasion to take them adn say “hey, I have this thing I want to tell you. It will take 2 or 3 hours. You’re fine with it, right?” And subtly impose a social/moral/pity obligation on them to listen to me even though what they really want is to get out and havea bite and return to their bed to check up on email, facebook, and Netflix.
I want to play.
I found a playmate! She…. just…….. divided attention. No blame, and no…. I would like to not have any more expectations! No expectations then. Let us play whenever the wind blows taht way.
Thank you, pointful words.
They start to. These words… the solid door has become a fine filter wall, and now my emotions push against the filter, seeping out colored spaghetti strips of want, too-late speech, left-out feeling, disattention, disinterest by others, silent frustration, and th efeeling of wanting to hug everyone at once but not having sufficient nor long-enough arms to do so. They all squeeze through, slowly, word by painfully slow word, in struggling relief. They do. They flow. But ohhhh so slow……..
Like so many times before.
Used to it? I don’t want to be used to it. I… … have no idea what I want. A social group, I found it. People that will accept me no matter what I say or do/ I found them? “No matter” might be too strong a phrasing. Receptive, for sure. They’re around! They’re here! Why, then…. such void and pain and lack of fulfillment?
Feeling of left-out. Again, not your first time, sailor. But I don’t WANT to numb myself to it! I want to express it in fullness, in a primal, unabashed flow. Bashfulness remains, though. Office? Cry here? Yes, OK. Talk to someone here? (Go to a psychologist”, they’ll say. No. Friend! I want a friend.
Who?
Alex.
Will he want to listen to sob stories?
That’s what I am so afraid of. That people, upon listening to my many sob stories, will refject me and leave me hanging out further out in the void. And ohh I can imagine that would hurt.
But things hurt. Now. Even.
I just….. it feels like an ivnvasion to take them adn say “hey, I have this thing I want to tell you. It will take 2 or 3 hours. You’re fine with it, right?” And subtly impose a social/moral/pity obligation on them to listen to me even though what they really want is to get out and havea bite and return to their bed to check up on email, facebook, and Netflix.
I want to play.
I found a playmate! She…. just…….. divided attention. No blame, and no…. I would like to not have any more expectations! No expectations then. Let us play whenever the wind blows taht way.
Thank you, pointful words.
No comments:
Post a Comment