Breathing Is An Arrival
These lows, I guess they're what give the crest of the wave its gravity. I feel three thousand years old, though I shoot my mouth off like a sixteen year old of late, anger just below the surface and deeper still there is some level of placidity, whose depths as yet I haven't delved. Cracking through the anger is the hard part. It's hard work, reminding yourself that you're not living life for anyone else. No one is watching. There isn't any meaning save that which you make.
Stop wondering what other people will think. Stop taking into consideration how the thing will make you appear, weak or strong. Act.
This is all so far from what I had wanted to say. I'm afraid, and the things I'm afraid of are probably fears that are not unknown to most people, but I'm afraid even to talk about them. It's so crazy how you never really know someone, you just know the brave front that they present you with, the happily-married-doing-quite-well guy who for some reason works late every night and plays golf all weekend or stays out with the Kiwanis or shoots his brains out. So far from what I had intended to say. It's me, it's not that guy -- I'm the person presenting you with that front, I'm strong and I can weather whatever storm life can throw at me, when really I can't. I'm trying so hard to appreciate the me that isn't that person. The one who wouldn't say "500," the one who would run, tail between her legs. She's in here, cowering, afraid of how I will deal with her. And deal with her I must.
I'm afraid of being alone forever.
I'm afraid that the most fulfilling parts of my life are behind me (that this is the most satisfying/challenging job I'll ever have. That I'm not smart enough for something more.)
I'm afraid that I don't know enough about being "feminine" or "domestic", or however you want to label the pink and fluffy parts of being a woman, and therefore don't have "enough" to bring to a relationship.
Well, there they are, the big ones. They do seem rather ridiculous when I lay them out like that, but not so ridiculous that I can just banish them as easily as all that. I will get there, eventually.
Stop wondering what other people will think. Stop taking into consideration how the thing will make you appear, weak or strong. Act.
This is all so far from what I had wanted to say. I'm afraid, and the things I'm afraid of are probably fears that are not unknown to most people, but I'm afraid even to talk about them. It's so crazy how you never really know someone, you just know the brave front that they present you with, the happily-married-doing-quite-well guy who for some reason works late every night and plays golf all weekend or stays out with the Kiwanis or shoots his brains out. So far from what I had intended to say. It's me, it's not that guy -- I'm the person presenting you with that front, I'm strong and I can weather whatever storm life can throw at me, when really I can't. I'm trying so hard to appreciate the me that isn't that person. The one who wouldn't say "500," the one who would run, tail between her legs. She's in here, cowering, afraid of how I will deal with her. And deal with her I must.
I'm afraid of being alone forever.
I'm afraid that the most fulfilling parts of my life are behind me (that this is the most satisfying/challenging job I'll ever have. That I'm not smart enough for something more.)
I'm afraid that I don't know enough about being "feminine" or "domestic", or however you want to label the pink and fluffy parts of being a woman, and therefore don't have "enough" to bring to a relationship.
Well, there they are, the big ones. They do seem rather ridiculous when I lay them out like that, but not so ridiculous that I can just banish them as easily as all that. I will get there, eventually.
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