Of being so over this

Alright.

You clearly do not hold yourself to blame.

Fine. You don’t know what is wrong until someone tells you your fly is undone. Do you rely heavily on others to manage you? Do you wait for handmaidens to come at your every beck and call? What gives you the right to presume such sense of entitlement? You’re a grown-up for cat’s sakes! Can’t you analyze you doings and dealings with others and see the patterns that develop?

Therefore we’ll dissect a sample of what you are:

1.        1. A macho hombre.

2.       2. A dominating, dominant, tough guy.

3.       3. A charging bull.

4.       4. A multifaceted, sensitive man.

5.       5. A “simple guy.”

6.       6. A tempestuous personality.

7.       7. A very friendly person.

8.       8. A “take it as it is” kind of guy.

9.       9. Opinionated.

Now, we’ll do the same for me. 

What I am:

1.       1. Mercurial.

2.       2. Vindictive.

3.       3. Artistically inclined.

4.       4. Intractable.

5.       5. Willful.

6.       6. Passionate.

7.       7. Misanthropic.

And you’re not:

1.       1. A psychic.

2.       2. A wizard.

3.       3. The village idiot.

4.       4. A jerk.

5.       5. A two-faced tray.

6.       6. A manipulative user.

7.       7. A big baby.

8.       8. An incorrigible flirt.

And I stand against:

1.       1. Mind games.

2.       2. Double-standards.

3.       3. Double-talk.

4.       4. Underhanded spite.

5.       5. Denial.

6.       6. Unaccountability.

7.       7. Liars.

8.       8. Pre-judging others.

Can we see a pattern developing? In a case of He said, She said this will make a nice screwball comedy but no … in real life it just leads to much dissatisfaction and hurt.  You make half-assed attempts and call it your final try by presenting me with a symbol of my own failures? Are you that sadistic? Is my silence that much of a burr you find solace in spitting in my face? Do you deny the whines and moans of your working life when I’m trying to cope with my own empty one? Can anyone be that reality-impaired?

No, I refuse to capitulate to a caterwauling brat. If thinking treating others as ciphers for your own amusement is within your right then I’ll leave you to it. I promise I’ll remain unjudging, and love the fancies you represented. But my eyes are now open, and I see the fantasy for its blasted surface.

Empty.

Perilous.

Unfulfilled. 

Of suitcases

Sometimes … Sometimes I wish I could divest myself of feelings.

Joy.

Sadness.

Pain.

Love.

Despondency.

I wish I could pack them up in little suitcases and store them somewhere I couldn’t see. So I could forget. Out of sight, out of mind. So I could go about my daily doings unhampered by baggage and concentrate on what is needed and what must be. And what must be is for me to move on. Forge ahead unheeding of whatever losses I might have accrued and look for more to gain.

Companionship.

Safety.

Security.

Balance.

It’s a dicey affair, having to balance between what is necessary and what is desired. More often than not, I give way to others’ wants and needs and leave myself bereft and unfulfilled. I wished I could say I’m an altruist but no … I just prefer to let things slide, unsaid.

In a place where words have the power to break, heal, mend or even destroy I find myself bound by silence. A winter garden that awaits for spring’s thaw. It might be beautiful. It might be perfect. Yet it is a perfect beauty defined by its solitude. 

And I crave – paradoxically, it seems – society.

And society demands things I could never give freely. All the baggage that formed me into what I am are too fragile, too precious, too private – too painful – to share. Perhaps with losses and gains I find myself teetering on the edge.

Whether it is on teetering on a fine balance or on the edge of a cliff remains to be seen.