I talked to Chris today.
Finally.
It took me nearly a week to convince him that it was worth his effort to spend a single conversation with me.
The conversation took place at the Starbucks next to the old house.
I met him there and felt a stirring sense of panic in the pit of my stomach as I took more and more strides down the heated concrete.
I began to gnaw determinedly on the dry skin at the tips of my already hideously misshapen fingernails and it was then that I realized how fully nervous I was.
The truth of the matter is that I never know quite what I'm going to utter verbally when I make a point of having a planned conversation. I simply hold to the repeatedly proven fact that I will be profound and my thoughts will come out in a new way which will in turn improve my perspective causing me to learn new things about myself. About my ability to be happy. About my life.
These things could be said to be the sole drives for what it is that fuels my daily reason to get up and tackle yet another morning routine before yet another afternoon routine into yet another evening routine.
Can a person be afraid of doing the same arbitrary thing twice?
I guess I have no idea about people in general, only myself.
Even then I don't always trust what I have to draw from.
I have realized that a large part of what causes me this overall sense of insatiable craving for something more from life stems from my inability to find contentment in anything over which I do not hold any power or command any level of respect.
It's as if there's a certain amount of harnessed surety I need in order to embrace the fullness of everyday.
I need to know everyday will be everyday.
Chris is a constant reminder of my lack of ability in this area.
I cannot always know.
I cannot always hold it in my lanky, warm fingers.
I cannot always know him.
I cannot always hold him in my lanky, warm arms.
And yet now I seem to have found an increased confusion.
I can't see what's right...only what my lying emotions tell me "feels" right.
I don't want to make Chris another quote-unquote.
I don't want to love him and I don't want to want him and yet I cannot help the fact that I do.
Oh, so sincerely.
I don't feel safe with anyone.
I want to feel safe.
I want to make someone feel safe.
Etiquette for an Apocalypse
12 years ago
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