self

3 AM thoughts

Pelgris20 Comments

I wonder what it is like to receive my romantic attention. Is it smothering to be thought of in focus? By which I mean as a primary thought, like writing or learning. To know that I think about them when I wake up, when I sleep, and just during the day. To read my poetry that they inspire, to receive compliments and pet names, to hear the thousands of thoughts that slam into my brain.

To deal with the way my brain works, confident but always willing to read a situation as negative. Needing to be reassured of your interest until I’m completely confident in it. Needing to hear back as soon as possible. Needing to know why you aren’t available or will be gone for whatever ongoing conversation we are having.

Dealing with my rules. Dealing with my sexual appetite. With my stories about what I desire to do with and to you, then your realization that they weren’t so much stories as points of intention.

Maybe it’s all too much and the relationship just dies under the weight of communication. I try to restrain my heart, but I often fail. I try to be easy and chill but it’s not my nature. Serious and intense is my nature, though I can be silly if I feel safe. I don’t know. I guess that’s why this is bothering me at three in the morning.

Self metaphor

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Think of me like a blade. Functional, sharp. In romance, I am no less the blade. Merely sheathed. In true friendship, the blade is bare but held horizontal to my body. Held loosely but ready. Each degree down the ladder changes the orientation of the blade and grip of same. Until, against enemies, the blade is unseen. Unnoticed until it slips under the ribcage.

This is how I think of myself. It is a useful metaphor. It keeps me mindful of the things I am capable of. That if I falter, I can do unwitting damage. That despite how I may seem or project, that is what I am. Who I am. As I always say, I am the weapon, every thing else is just a tool.

I am a blade bared.

Thoughts on beauty and introspection

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Beauty is not about your body. If I meant it to be about your body I would have said pretty. Or used the phrase aesthetically pleasing.

When I comment that a person is beautiful, I always mean that I have caught a glimpse of something indefinable, some piece of your self that calls to my humanity. A piece that makes me fall in love, just a little bit, with that person.

Needless to say, I fall in love all the time. I think it’s a poets job to look inside to see and more importantly to write and speak.
To let people know that they are not faceless, not invisible. That beauty lurks in the heart of us all.

I’m not the best vehicle for telling people of their beauty. I’m not great at the whole charisma thing, I don’t think anyway. But I’ll write it, and hopefully they’ll see themselves the way I see them.

Off topic a bit, I’m in pain all the time. Loving individuals is who I am, it let’s me write, let’s me see and I wouldn’t change that. But so few people, see me. And I don’t mean in my writing, I mean me, the totality of me. And it is so very painful to love and not be loved.

Conversations on conversation

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In nearly every conversation I have now, there is the element of fear. I speak about my interests and desires, my past and present. I share my work and my self with anyone that expresses genuine interest.

The fear of rejection, of pushing away those I find alluring are present during. But while we’re talking it’s like a exhibitionist high, or the submissive float. I say whatever I desire, engage in wordplay and generally have fun.

But after, it’s like an adrenaline crash. I shake and fear that what I said, while truthful, will push away someone who could be an amazing relationship but won’t be because I pushed too far, too fast in the tumultuous rush of my Rollercoaster of conversation.

And it’s hard to admit to this fear. I control my self, my emotional reactions. But no matter what I do, this fear is present. It doesn’t stop me. In a way, it pushes me forward. But I can’t seem to shake it. For someone who lives so much in his head, conversation is my way of sharing my world. But after I do, I want nothing more than to have and be held. A physical balm for the emotional tumult.