The Right Write Rite

truth

facades fade

Can you REALLY know someone?

Is it you that I know? Or just the lie?

People move in and out of my life, changing, growing, and I remain the same, the quiet observer of chaos.

How many times am I going to have to introduce myself? Tell someone my middle name? Watch the surprise in someone's eyes when I tell them I have two? Stability is so simple, yet seemingly unattainable. There are no constants. Wrong. The constant is change. New faces. New friends. Goodbyes.

Disregard my lack of enthusiasm. I am at the point in life where disillusion sets in, and I cannot find joy in the simple pleasures I once enjoyed. Old friends find new loves and lose touch, while I sit and wait for life to happen. Fear of the unknown weighs me down to my seat, and I cannot breathe. I cannot feel anymore. No. I will not feel anymore. The consequences of feeling and living, of the vulnerability of love, are far too dire. I know. I remember. Once bitten, twice shy. I will not forget my naive, wasted tears.

The truth is that I am terrified. I am terrified of living, of changing, of growing. I know how it feels. I know the wonder of letting uninhibited hope run through you, the beauty of loving someone entirely. I have flown high on that wind. I have flown, and I have fallen. It is too hard to get back up, but I do not have time to waste. The world will not wait for me; life does not wait. I have sat and cowered. I have avoided change, and feared relationships. People pass by and I force my eyes to the ground, remembering the pain of broken trust and broken hearts. Flickers of hope appear, and I pause, tempted; but, I know in the end I will walk away. "Too soon," I keep telling myself. "It's too soon." I am terrified, choking on the air that gives me life. People. They fascinate me. Terrify me. I am cutting myself off from the people that I love (loved), that I need (needed), that I want (wanted). Why bring others down with me? Why burden them with my fears and insecurities? "It will pass," they'll tell me. "It's just life." I know.

I need a kick-start, something to move me in the right direction. He just might be it, but I don't think I will ever know. It won't happen. I won't let it. That would be far too difficult, for me and for him. End it early, and avoid unnecessary confusion. I realize that I am being slightly melodramatic. I am having a bad reaction to a bad piece of life. While not exactly common, my case is not the exception to the rules of life. Regardless, I need to move on. I need to breathe the air again. I need to open my eyes, open my heart, and feel again. I need new hope to replace this cynicism, new confidence to replace this fear. He gives me hope. He makes me smile. He is too close, far too close. Would it really be so horrible, being close to someone again? It was before, but that was far too soon; my wounds were still bleeding. Now, they're starting to scab over; it might be fine this time. It might be what I need. It might be what I want. I know what I want, and that is too much to ask of anyone, let alone myself. I want what I had. I want the exhilaration of naivete, of not knowing and not caring, of living for us and us alone. I want to find truth in the depth of someone's eyes, and solace in their embrace. Is that really so much? Is it too late to allow myself those youthful fancies? Am I too hardened by the realities of human relationships? I think so, but I would like to be proven wrong. Even if he could, I wouldn't let him. He's too close, far too close, and not to me. He is too close to the past. Any other place, any other time, and I would never think twice. Not here, not now. I fear it's gone too far to avoid the dull ache of unfulfilled desire, but that is better than the sharp pain of unrequited love. Love. I am incapable of it while I am tethered to the past. It is what I seek, but shall not find, even as it stares me in the face.