I do not write about things while they are close to me. It feels volatile and wrong and like an invasion into what we are doing. More than that I just can’t see it yet for what it is. I can’t talk about things I cannot see. I won’t write about this until this is no longer this. Instead I write about That. And the more I write about That the further away it seems, the further away it is. Further being an idea farther being a distance. In terms of distance That is too close. And this is not that.
I find it surprising there is room in my body for all of this. I don’t know how feelings can live so close to each other, so close sometimes they are climbing on top of one another, or hiding inside. They surprise me and scare me and just when I think they’ve gone they come back and ask for a seat at the table. The struggle is in the struggle. And I’d be lying if I said this makes that any easier.
Time and age and space have taken on entirely new qualities since this started. I don’t know how you can be on the other side of the world and yet feel still so close to me. Or how he can be down the street and feel like a world away. All the energy currents have been realigned. And I am not mad about it. I am asking for it. I am practically begging myself on a daily basis for it.
I told him I’m interested in the way or the moments we actually remember with someone, how they get broken off and put in a jar along the wall. He was driving. He is always the one driving. And we’re sitting at a stop light. He doesn’t look at me when he says, I understand. And I know in that moment we’re being put in a jar. I told him he has two on my shelf. The truth is, he has his own shelf entirely.
I can tell there are entire sections of myself still roped off. Do not walk here. Tread lightly. Do not enter. Enter at your own risk. There are entire mechanical sections of myself that are still offline for repair. I only know it when I try to use them in this. They just don’t work yet. Just because it doesn’t make sense doesn’t mean it is not the way it is, doesn’t mean everything isn’t exactly how it should be.
Beautiful – your experience is familiar. Like looking in the mirror.