Never underestimate the power of miscommunication.
Maybe that's what's actually meant by the phrase "Love is blind." Love is blind to objectivity. Love is blind to the rational, cool-headed way a person would react with anyone else but the one they love.
And I have an internal Cassandra complex. Internal, because 99% of the time it'll never come up in conversation.
But then, I never talk about myself anyway. And that's not true; never is entirely the wrong word. Somehow it's the kind of word that always gets used, though. Never, nothing, silence.
Yes, I speak much less than most people. And I speak of myself even less. And I have no idea how to change that. Everyone gives me that alienating look at that point. At that point, I'm told one 'just does it.' I don't doubt this. I'm sure many a 'one' does, but I don't.
For me, it's excruciating. Disastrous. Silly, even. Why would anyone possibly want to try and understand me? How Herculean a task, to understand someone...especially one so guarded.
Guarded. I built those defenses. I admit it. Years of earthworks construction, only to discover that there was no war, and never would be. Not on the borders. Inside. The damned war is always inside.
So damned hard. Clearly the shell must be ripped open, the earthworks torn down. This will leave scars. Gapping wounds, and for awhile it will seem tragic. Sad as it is, these defenses are beautiful. Awesome in the literal sense, and thereby terrible. And, really, so much a part of me. Where I am now I can't even imagine what lies beneath them...
I can be sure, at least of this much: it's worth it. For her, it's worth it.
Maybe that's what's actually meant by the phrase "Love is blind." Love is blind to objectivity. Love is blind to the rational, cool-headed way a person would react with anyone else but the one they love.
And I have an internal Cassandra complex. Internal, because 99% of the time it'll never come up in conversation.
But then, I never talk about myself anyway. And that's not true; never is entirely the wrong word. Somehow it's the kind of word that always gets used, though. Never, nothing, silence.
Yes, I speak much less than most people. And I speak of myself even less. And I have no idea how to change that. Everyone gives me that alienating look at that point. At that point, I'm told one 'just does it.' I don't doubt this. I'm sure many a 'one' does, but I don't.
For me, it's excruciating. Disastrous. Silly, even. Why would anyone possibly want to try and understand me? How Herculean a task, to understand someone...especially one so guarded.
Guarded. I built those defenses. I admit it. Years of earthworks construction, only to discover that there was no war, and never would be. Not on the borders. Inside. The damned war is always inside.
So damned hard. Clearly the shell must be ripped open, the earthworks torn down. This will leave scars. Gapping wounds, and for awhile it will seem tragic. Sad as it is, these defenses are beautiful. Awesome in the literal sense, and thereby terrible. And, really, so much a part of me. Where I am now I can't even imagine what lies beneath them...
I can be sure, at least of this much: it's worth it. For her, it's worth it.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
daekrys:
aye, for love, and when we realize what we've been doing this entire time, it makes us wonder why no one told us what we were doing. but it sure is fun while your doing it. i never built any big walls, just a little hole i can crawl into, and i close the door, and it has a smiley face painted on it, to fool away the would be botherers of me. lots of smoking, and then some drinking, more smoking, medusa.
st_eve_bc:
I wonder where my comment ended up.. thats funny I swear I left it here.