Thursday, July 26, 2007
This is a picture of my head.
I post it because this is where I live most of the time. Like a house.
And sometimes, I don't always keep a clean house.
In fact, sometimes my head is so cluttered with the shoulds/woulds/coulds of life, that I over analyze myself into a coma.
I question myself, my intentions, my fears, my behaviors.
I fill the house with so much fear and uncertainty that one might think there was a gas explosion that crumbles its entire structure.
I fear most the future. I know - Who doesn't? But I spend so much time wishing I knew what would happen, because I believe if I did, it would make the here-and-now so much less painful.
Most recently, I have obsessed over my ended romantic relationship where the friendship-part still exists, and moreso the fear of letting go and letting the other explore his needs, and then letting myself take a leap into my own new "situation."
Its even harder when the old relationship becomes not just a friend, but a best friend - The type of friend you end up spending your whole summer with riding bikes and climbing trees with like 10-year olds. But the danger is that, when the summer ends, you have to first hand witness the moments in which you stop being the tree-climbing friend, and he starts packing up to move away. It's a loss all over again.
At the same time tree-climbing friend begins on his new adventure, another friend pulls into town - A friend that, while you may not climb trees with, you may lay under the trees and look at the leaves with this friend. You see the tree that you once scaled with glee and fearlessness in a slightly different way. Inside your mind, you mourn this slow change, and you touch the scars on your legs that you got from climbing the bark and the branches. The scars aren't the bad ones - they don't hurt, ever. They are with you forever, a constant reminder of that summer of climbing, and that your friend is still a part of you, no matter how many other friends come into both of your lives.
That no matter how far away that friend moves, its never farther than a bike can travel.
These are the things that live in my "house." Thanks for listening.