When It's too late to jump from a higher place
This is following up on my last post... a bit of freewriting I wrote almost a month ago... It's still just as valid now as it was then. And now I officially and truly promise not to post about unrequited love... Really...
When it's too late to jump from a higher place.
He would say something vague, feeling I'd catch the meaning and miss the motive. Beyond those words he'd feel very misunderstood. I would feel the same. We would stare at each other between quiet moments of down at our feet. We would change the subject, and find a deep breath was all it took to bring it back again.
He'd want to tell me he's not really the sum of his actions – least of all the most recent, which were rather impressive. “I'm just a guy”. He'd want to say... “You'd always see more than that, or you'd always see less.”
He'd expect me to be disappointed. He'd expect me to disappoint him. He would not really expect I could get past his guarded facade any faster than he has been cautiously stripping it away.. but not fast enough. I should be sure, the bulk of that guarded exterior would always remain in place. He the peaceful and responsible one, quiet yet comfortable in the corner. I the foil who just met him in the middle a few times to tell a few jokes: crass and passionate, large and loud.
I would want to tell him that it was not like that at all: That somewhere in a safer place was a side of me sitting quiet and focused.... facing forward with self-control, but just a little too cold to move. That this part of me stirred awake when I met him... She got up, she looked for ways in or ways out... it's hard to say who imprisoned whom. In any case she was now struggling for room in an otherwise crowded life and brain. The parts of me which aligned with him were very difficult to communicate. Although it was what made me who I am... I've lost that language.
I'd want to communicate that I loved him within 5 minutes of meeting him, that I was not still deciding whether he was worth loving. I knew that from the beginning and perhaps a bit before... now I am just figuring out why... and that's a dynamic process. It wouldn't have to be romantic... It wouldn't have to be anything... or perhaps that was just my logic talking. Nothing I felt about him was all that logical, except he didn't need this complication right now. I shouldn't have spoken.
He could never feel the same. Responsibility would overrule, or at least that's what he'll say it is. He'd consider others feelings, convenience... logic.. and he'd do "the right thing", and I will do the same – except in my case I'll wonder if the responsible thing was really the same as the "right" thing. Perhaps, although all I seemed to have was bad timing... it would have been enough. I guess his words, actions, and emotions are not quite as far apart or conflicting as mine.
The truth is my facade is thicker, my motives more blurry, my core so well protected it's getting just a little rusty and useless. I've never had strong feelings for someone who could see beyond my stronger pretenses, even when I took them down. He'll feel the same way... she of all people would never understand.
We'll shrug it off, we'll walk away. Next time we talk it will be about the simple and the trivial: work and school amid misplaced laughs. And then soon afterward I'll leave town. Emails will be infrequent and simple: there will be nothing more in common, and nothing more to say. From the moment he turns around, everything will break...
It will be as if I never talked to him again.
When it's too late to jump from a higher place.
He would say something vague, feeling I'd catch the meaning and miss the motive. Beyond those words he'd feel very misunderstood. I would feel the same. We would stare at each other between quiet moments of down at our feet. We would change the subject, and find a deep breath was all it took to bring it back again.
He'd want to tell me he's not really the sum of his actions – least of all the most recent, which were rather impressive. “I'm just a guy”. He'd want to say... “You'd always see more than that, or you'd always see less.”
He'd expect me to be disappointed. He'd expect me to disappoint him. He would not really expect I could get past his guarded facade any faster than he has been cautiously stripping it away.. but not fast enough. I should be sure, the bulk of that guarded exterior would always remain in place. He the peaceful and responsible one, quiet yet comfortable in the corner. I the foil who just met him in the middle a few times to tell a few jokes: crass and passionate, large and loud.
I would want to tell him that it was not like that at all: That somewhere in a safer place was a side of me sitting quiet and focused.... facing forward with self-control, but just a little too cold to move. That this part of me stirred awake when I met him... She got up, she looked for ways in or ways out... it's hard to say who imprisoned whom. In any case she was now struggling for room in an otherwise crowded life and brain. The parts of me which aligned with him were very difficult to communicate. Although it was what made me who I am... I've lost that language.
I'd want to communicate that I loved him within 5 minutes of meeting him, that I was not still deciding whether he was worth loving. I knew that from the beginning and perhaps a bit before... now I am just figuring out why... and that's a dynamic process. It wouldn't have to be romantic... It wouldn't have to be anything... or perhaps that was just my logic talking. Nothing I felt about him was all that logical, except he didn't need this complication right now. I shouldn't have spoken.
He could never feel the same. Responsibility would overrule, or at least that's what he'll say it is. He'd consider others feelings, convenience... logic.. and he'd do "the right thing", and I will do the same – except in my case I'll wonder if the responsible thing was really the same as the "right" thing. Perhaps, although all I seemed to have was bad timing... it would have been enough. I guess his words, actions, and emotions are not quite as far apart or conflicting as mine.
The truth is my facade is thicker, my motives more blurry, my core so well protected it's getting just a little rusty and useless. I've never had strong feelings for someone who could see beyond my stronger pretenses, even when I took them down. He'll feel the same way... she of all people would never understand.
We'll shrug it off, we'll walk away. Next time we talk it will be about the simple and the trivial: work and school amid misplaced laughs. And then soon afterward I'll leave town. Emails will be infrequent and simple: there will be nothing more in common, and nothing more to say. From the moment he turns around, everything will break...
It will be as if I never talked to him again.
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