That aside, and oh, how hard it is to set aside... that aside, though, a few thoughts from the past few days.
The other night... oh, the past couple days have been unsettling. Just strange things, you know... upheavals. A lot to adjust to, still adjusting. That, and being moody in general, hasn't made me easy to predict, I think. I have to apologize to my beloveds, for being hot-and-cold. Just trying to make sense of things. I thought I was regaining my confidence in some senses, and I suppose I still am. But there's also something I'm discovering... that I don't have all the answers. I used to, I swear to God. I used to always know exactly the right thing to say to everybody, and it worked, and it made things okay. It always came to my head right when I needed it. But now... I hardly ever know. I... I would say that I failed for the first time this week. I mean, I make mistakes. I don't accomplish some things. But when I set out to do good, to really heal someone, and when I give it everything I have... I've never failed before. But understand that I'm not unhappy about this as such. It's a blow, but what I'm thinking is that this loss of surety is in some way maturity. Realizing that I don't have all the answers, realizing that my problems may not be easy just because I'm smart. Realizing that I can't help everyone... and I don't have to. Being able to weigh what I have against what I can risk and discovering what measures I can and can't afford to take.
The night before last I lay in the dark, listening to my beautiful one's heartbeat. I was crying... discombobulated by Jeremy's leaving among other things. I guess of late I've been crying more than I ever have before... the funny thing is that it's not that I feel like crying any more than I used to. I'm ten times happier on a regular basis than ever in my life. But the fact is that I no longer try not to cry. When I feel like it, I do, because I know there's someone who will take every moment of it seriously and comfort me. Which is wonderful, but also perhaps not good, because I'm not always crying for the most momentous reasons. Sometimes I cry when I'm frustrated, or thwarted, or tired, or sick. I cry for stupid reasons too, and they really are stupid reasons. I'm emotional enough at times that anything can set me off... and I don't want to frighten those who love me by letting them believe that these occurances are anything earth-shattering. I'm just a girl... more and more these days. Funny, huh?
So I laid there, feeling shaken, and feeling unhappy because I've been, for some reason, afraid of the dark lately, and then... I don't know. When I'm feeling scared or... well, emotional at all, really, I talk. So I did. For a half an hour, forty minutes, maybe more... I laid there and listened to his heartbeat and whispered to him, telling him maybe a thousand times that I loved him, and every single thing I could think of that I loved, in the order they came to my head. His collarbones, the way he holds me, the way he looks so helpless when he laughs. Everything. And he slept, and that was all right... I talked myself to sleep. I do this sometimes. My head never stops telling stories.
And now for something completely different... kind of...
We watched "Chasing Amy" tonight. (Pop culture contamination... I almost typed "Judging Amy." Somebody fucking save me, we have a TV now!) It was fine. Y'know, the kind of cute intelligent romantic thing, like When Harry Met Sally, it's good, I like it, it's the kind of romantic movie I actually admit to having enjoyed. No, dammit, we don't have "Down With Love" on our shelf, I don't care what you saw!
I was thinking... god, women are strange. Men... men make a lot more sense sometimes. It's easier to understand pieces. When something is whole it is of necessity contained within itself... and thus mysterious.
When you argue with someone and they walk out on you, everyone leaves a hole in the room, right? Like you can hear it echoing, the space feels unnatural. But the thing is... women always do that. No matter what. No matter if it's an argument or just a quiet trip to the kitchen. Every woman leaves a hole in every room she exits. Ask me why. I have no fucking clue. Vacuums inside vacuums... too much space. There's a resonating tone that doesn't still.
I haven't hung out with enough girls lately, I guess. Gotta get Tina's ass over here.
So tired... but I feel good. I feel safe... I feel lucky. I feel female, too. Figure me that.
Labels: Brendon, Introspection, Jeremy, Katrina, Missing You
