There's a little "community" room in the basement of my apartment complex. They have a cable hook-up, and I'm here with my laptop. I've missed two days of work in a row for an illness that is imagined itself into reality. Have you ever faked being sick, and found yourself sick from it? I feel useless and silly right now. I will have to make up for it in the coming weeks.
Heidi's here and getting comfortable. No success in finding a job as of yet, but it could take awhile. I have the same level of confidence I had before she got here. It's just a matter of barking up the right tree. I feel terribly responsible for her happiness, something I shouldn't be doing. It's somehow satisfying to be carrying such a real burden though. That someone's health and happiness is so immediately related to what I might be able to do for her is comforting to me. I've felt that I have had such little impact on my world lately. Putting myself in the path of most resistance is, arguably, an artform of mine.
Her presense builds like tickles across my face. Bags, boxes, and air that once was crumpled and stuffed tight in her car begins to sprawl and grow. For her it was a complete journey. Leave what you know, drive through the distance, begin to live where you end up. For me, it is the magic of perspective.
If I close my eyes I can imagine it all as happening independent of human design. Just the bags shifting and moving and ordering themselves while we sleep away countless hours in intoxicating cuddles. The light from the window plays a cliche yet still terribly impressive shadow across her resting eyelids. My feet flicker to the heartbeats.
She brings with her the past. In solid square bundles of glossy pictures. Russ and I in a bar. Patsy on a couch. Tick tocking clocks counting the same second forever. Mikey and me in holloween garb, clowishly believing our mock-kiss would last for centurys in its original humor. Never knowing at the time that the same frozen moment could grow daggers of painful nostalgia. What, when, and where is home in all of this head of mine?
She brings with her the future. If the past is glossy freeze, the future is shimmering highways in noon's heat. Shifty and difficult to navigate. So horribly scary. What you reach out to touch rarely appears in your hands after the effort spent. To remain sane means constantly forgetting what one was trying to attain, in order to appreciate what one has recieved.
She brings with her these moments and then this next. A love so comfortably remembered. A depth so skimmingly attained. I don't know how to be what most people need me to be. I enjoy being with someone who knows I am nothing so much as I am everything. People nod and smile and suggest that her and I will be committed partners before too long. They cannot seem to accept that we could not argue or contest or conflict enough to be in love in that manner. There's no challenge in the eyes we face towards one another. Without challenge, there is only friendship. I would lay down in the middle of a highway for Heidi, but I can only love her, not be in love with her.
I don't know of anyone I could be in love with. I don't know of any situation that might dictate a promise. I don't believe the world when it tells me that story. I have no gods.
She brings with her my apprecaition. Though she might pretend from time to time that she does not believe it. The defense of self-critique is, I'm sure, an artform for her as much as self-defeatism is for me.
*sigh*
Heidi's here and getting comfortable. No success in finding a job as of yet, but it could take awhile. I have the same level of confidence I had before she got here. It's just a matter of barking up the right tree. I feel terribly responsible for her happiness, something I shouldn't be doing. It's somehow satisfying to be carrying such a real burden though. That someone's health and happiness is so immediately related to what I might be able to do for her is comforting to me. I've felt that I have had such little impact on my world lately. Putting myself in the path of most resistance is, arguably, an artform of mine.
Her presense builds like tickles across my face. Bags, boxes, and air that once was crumpled and stuffed tight in her car begins to sprawl and grow. For her it was a complete journey. Leave what you know, drive through the distance, begin to live where you end up. For me, it is the magic of perspective.
If I close my eyes I can imagine it all as happening independent of human design. Just the bags shifting and moving and ordering themselves while we sleep away countless hours in intoxicating cuddles. The light from the window plays a cliche yet still terribly impressive shadow across her resting eyelids. My feet flicker to the heartbeats.
She brings with her the past. In solid square bundles of glossy pictures. Russ and I in a bar. Patsy on a couch. Tick tocking clocks counting the same second forever. Mikey and me in holloween garb, clowishly believing our mock-kiss would last for centurys in its original humor. Never knowing at the time that the same frozen moment could grow daggers of painful nostalgia. What, when, and where is home in all of this head of mine?
She brings with her the future. If the past is glossy freeze, the future is shimmering highways in noon's heat. Shifty and difficult to navigate. So horribly scary. What you reach out to touch rarely appears in your hands after the effort spent. To remain sane means constantly forgetting what one was trying to attain, in order to appreciate what one has recieved.
She brings with her these moments and then this next. A love so comfortably remembered. A depth so skimmingly attained. I don't know how to be what most people need me to be. I enjoy being with someone who knows I am nothing so much as I am everything. People nod and smile and suggest that her and I will be committed partners before too long. They cannot seem to accept that we could not argue or contest or conflict enough to be in love in that manner. There's no challenge in the eyes we face towards one another. Without challenge, there is only friendship. I would lay down in the middle of a highway for Heidi, but I can only love her, not be in love with her.
I don't know of anyone I could be in love with. I don't know of any situation that might dictate a promise. I don't believe the world when it tells me that story. I have no gods.
She brings with her my apprecaition. Though she might pretend from time to time that she does not believe it. The defense of self-critique is, I'm sure, an artform for her as much as self-defeatism is for me.
*sigh*
normlisovrated:
