A Spade A Spade
It’s hard to be the kind of person with all the feelings. Sometimes I have so many it seems there is not enough room inside my frame to hold them and I have to carry them on the outside, tucked into coat pockets and dragging behind me. Somewhere along the way I got the impression I was not allowed to have so many, particularly because they often times conflict, or call one another out as a fraud. I have wondered so many times, how is it possible to feel this way and that? To love two people at the same time? To love and hate one person at the same time? To be both proud of myself and yet unrelenting on my failure. It gets crowded in there.
Sometimes I don’t think I am learning anything at all. It’s hard to trust myself when it seems all I do is get hurt or hurt those I love. There is no possible way I am making the right decisions. Remind me in seven months, all of this was my doing yet again. And that whatever I get I had it coming.
In matters of this beating heart, I think we are always gambling. Even something that feels sure is so far from so. We as people are tepid and fickle weathered. We change and it is our duty to do so. These things we call feelings, these impulses or compulsions toward other people, toward ourselves are nothing more than temporary bets. That sounds sad, I don’t mean it like that. You know I don’t mean it like that. I think there is some relief though in calling a cat a cat. Or what did you say? A spade a spade.
What I do know is I’ve stopped believing there is something to grieve in holding all these feelings, my hands are full. And I must stop apologizing on their behalf. I must make room for them next to us at lunch.