Posted by Waveway on January 18th 2010 - 03:44:40 to
uncategorized

A moment, a glimpse, a glance, a laugh, a touch.
What it is to be.
To share.
I miss my place, I don’t have a place and I seem to be unable to find it.
She tells me I’m alone because I want to be alone.
I don’t want to be alone.
But I like to be alone, at times.
What can we share.
As humans, as physical beings, as thoughs, as interests.
And I react strongly when I’m left alone again. when I’m told that we will meet at five and clock is over six. Could you care to inform if you’re late. My mother did this all the time, I think most of my childhood, but maybe just enough times that I remember my strong reactions, and I react strongly. So I think and go back, where is this anger and violence coming from, what I’m afraid of? Am I afraid of? I can’t remember this but my parents have told me, that when I was a baby, I was taken care of their neighbour, until other neighbour told my parents that the caretakers used to go to shop etc and leave me sleeping in the balcony, except of course when I woke, there was no one there, so I was crying a long time before anyone came. My parents took me to another place after that. When I was maybe four… but this is not the place to go through everything, because all and all my childhood has been ok. But nevertheless it’s interesting to go back and try to figure out, why I am acting the way I am acting.
And yet, I have a reason to be angry, if something is agreed, and that agreement doesn’t hold, why would I trust your words anymore?
I’ve been left so manytimes, that I assume everyone will leave me again, let down.
That’s why I test you, everybody, how much can you take, will you really be there, even when I’m not nice, even when I mean and spiteful. And I don’t like myself then. Why I’m so worried of being alone, left again when I more and more believe that there is no me to be alone.
Nevertheless, she says she wants to be with me, but i see from most of her actions that she chooses something else, if there is something else to choose. She seems to find her place everywhere and anywhere, and I’m all the time lost. I do not like that, and the places where I find my place, something to do, are gigs, temporary, moving, one week here, other there, in a middle a long space of emptiness that I fill with more music and albums and coffee and mate… and thank god, friends.
To live a life together, what does it mean. What do we need to share for that, what is enough? Dance, presence, though.
And I gave you a book that you don’t understand. And I forgot to tell that I don’t understand either. Evil of me, I see now. I’m sorry.
It’s not dumb not to undestand the book, but it’s dumb to cook small kettle on too big fire.
How I can be so attached to person. How I think, or feel that there is love even though I can’t stand the way I’ve been treated, I can’t stand a lot of things, and times to times I long to be somewhere else. And I know that you long too.
After waiting for so long and being so angry, after saying this was enough, and this is it, through. after talking. Why still in the jam I was all the time dancing so that I could see when you come, waiting. I hated myself for waiting you then, but at least I was dancing and waiting. Dancing about three hours in a row. Some beautiful some not, and not settling anything that isn’t clear physical contact, because: If you’re just fluttering, I rather do a solo until I find someone who is willing to share their weight and support.
And afterwards going to dinner, thinking what a horrible place. And why this is so sad. Will I also be so alone after 30 years? But my friends are far away now too…. So maybe next summer I should make a birthday party and try to get my friends there, or even some of them.
Sometimes I see myself setting myself apart. Who is seeing? Who is setting apart. I turn away from people’s eyes and I don’t know why. If I’m closing something, what am I closing, the anger, the violence. That’s what I hate, my eperience that when I am open and take the space, there is some one complaining about it. Pretty much always someone is complaining so I don’t care much. Not caring much is setting apart. But I do care, even when I wish that I don’t. It’s the helplesness that I feel that makes me wish that I wouldn’t care. Because I’m lazy and I’m a coward to do something.
But all of this is also my choice. I can choose differently.
Self, you, me, anybody is pretty much just bunch of patterns that we stick to and we stick to them because if we wouldn’t, you wouldn’t be you and I wouldn’t be I. But that’s the very thing that is making the life difficult from time to time. How do you brake a pattern? Dice, Anyone?
This could be a text of 16 years old teeager, but it isn’t, I’m double. And somehow I fear that this might be a text of someone 57, if they would have the courage to write it out.
For what will we settle, for what are we settling? And for why? What are the compromises that we make. How many time we let ourselves to be let down, and still keep in touch…
I love you.
Who you are?
and what is love?
Beautiful sentence, it’s totally clear, and at the same time, it’s totally unclear, but because answers to questions how all or any of the three words are defined is too big and too wide and out of reach, we settle. I love you.
So I gave you a book. You will understand it.
you, nothing to be added, nothing to take away
love, nothing to be added, nothing to take away
I, nothing to be added, nothing to take away.
It’s not here, you can’t reach it, this is only text.
And yet, there is texts that will reach… I know, I’ve read a book.