none.

You think I'm strange.  You do. You always have, and I know it because I've seen it in your face whenever I laugh too loud at my favorite movies that aren't stimulating enough for you.  I've felt it in the way that you avoid eye contact with me, even all of those times I was sitting directly across the table from you which would have been the most natural and logical place to look in that situation.    

I mean, it doesn't really bother me.  Not that being thought of as strange is a particularly enjoyable experience.  I get self-conscious, sometimes.  But I just try to remember that the only reason anyone feels that way about anyone is because they simply don't appreciate the same things as the other person.

And I guess, in that regard, I must think you're strange right back.

Some good reading from Take June for your Monday.

Q&A

They ask me questions, from across the room.  They ask them, not with words, but with their faces and with their eyes.   

Why not a little make up?  Why not a nice blouse?  Why not a smile, Meghan?

They're wondering why I look like death.  Why I couldn't have spent a little more time, made myself bright and shiny this morning.

And I answer, I think, with my whole body.   

Because I'm the kind of person who prefers honesty.  And honestly, if I did any of that today, it would be lying.

none

"If only there could be an invention...that bottled up a memory, like scent.  And it never faded, and it never got stale.  And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again."

"I wish I was a woman of about thirty six dressed in black satin with a string of pearls."
                   
                            -Daphne Du Maurier

finite.

"Often with humans, both good and bad, my senses simply shut off, they get tired, I give up.  I am polite.  I pretend to understand because I don't want anybody to be hurt.  That is the one weakness that has lead me into the most trouble.  Trying to be kind to others I often get my soul shredded into a kind of spiritual pasta.  No matter.  My brain shuts off.  I listen.  I respond.  And they are too dumb to know that I am not there."**
                                                                                    
                                                                                       -Charles Bukowski

Because my perspective is nothing short of limited.  Because I lack the ability to see anything beyond right this second, in front of my face.  Because I am a finite vessel.  Because I tend to forget more often than I remember.  Because all things greater than this are simply out of my reach.  Because I am nothing more than a child.

You remind me.

At first, I'm mortified.  Because how could you?  But then, for a moment, I get a glance from a more mighty perspective.  I can see that you took a good thing to give me something greater. 

And at least I remember to say Thank You most of the time. 

**Quote ripped off via.

contend:

        to struggle in opposition;
          to assert or maintain earnestly. 

I was angry with you.

Not by any means was this justified.  But I was angry, with you.

Never mind that everything I needed had been provided.  I had been held up and prodded forward in every challenge I faced.  Never was I forced to do any single thing alone.

You knew I knew it.

I didn't want to bend my knees or lay down my head in submission.  Trying, shameless, to prove some pathetic point.  That I was capable of handling this.  I could do it.  On my own.

All that I really proved, I think, is that I wasn't and couldn't.  Which had been made clear eons ago. The only way to be supported was to put my weight on you.

You knew I knew it.

I was complaining in my mind, about how I never heard from you anymore.  That it used to happen all of the time, don't you remember?  A sentence or a thought stood out, an old friend came back from the dead.  And I was so sure that this was a means of communication.  Straight from you to me.


Of course, I took the time to explain my plans.  I was going to give up.  And don't you try to stop me.

I said that every morning was impossible.  Every day a battle.  I was going to allow this relentless current to pull me out, to take me where it would.  Because what did you care.  I didn't.

But that was all a lie.  And you knew I knew it.

My body had long since given up on convincing my mind to sleep.  Cheeks burning with tears, throat aching from failed efforts to hold them in.  I told you that I was tired.  That I couldn't spend another day trying to outrun this weight that had settled in my head and heart.

You said that I had work to do, and things to let go of.  I had habits to abandon; I'd never make it with them present.

I protested.  I said I had grown too attached, that they had become apart of me by now.  I told you that I was afraid I wouldn't recognize myself without them.  And I heard your answer before it was even said.

"What makes you think that would be such a bad thing?"

To you

I saw you standing not too far away, and knew that I should walk over and talk to you.  That would have been the normal and human thing to do.  But, as usual, my brain started racing and I couldn't think of one thing to say to you that I thought you'd consider worth being said.  I could already feel that all too familiar sting of another failed effort.  I wasn't up for it.  But by now you were looking back, so I just raised my arm up and moved it side to side.  I smiled a real smile that I honestly meant.  I meant it.

Because it was so good to see you, and to be reminded of the way that you stand and how your face looks in real life with light hitting it instead of just pictures on the internet.

To this day, I still think of how I regret this, of what I could have said if I had just taken several steps in your direction, swallowed hard, and opened my mouth.  I'm sure talking would have happened.  You usually made it easy on me, talking, because you made everything easy.  I think because you could always sense how unnatural I felt in social situations.  You'd compensate for me.

But I didn't.  I didn't move, and we all know you don't move to talk to anyone.  It isn't your fault, you've never had to.  And so I just stood there and waved and smiled, because it was the best I could do.  That best I can do that always fell short for you.

passive pacifist.

"My heart is filled with songs of forever,

of a city that endures when all is made new.

I know I don't belong here;

I'll never call this place my home.

I'm just passing through."

To you,

I'm sure you've probably wondered since why I was there for so long and then dropped it in what seemed like a matter of minutes.  You most likely don't understand how I could have gone from caring to not caring just like that.  I doubt that it made any sense to you when I started ignoring each and every phone call.  Did the sound of my voicemail become painful to hear?  I may have owed you more of an explanation than I gave.  To be truthful, for once, I had been disconnected for much longer than I lead on.  I guess I just assumed you'd notice after a while and I would get out of it without even having to say a word.  Unfortunately, this was my strategy for a great amount too many things.  Even in light of your own downfalls, this wasn't fair of me.

I'm not saying that it's right.  It's just that, with the complete lack of positive attention, I settled for the first source of any attention.  Unfortunately, that had to be you.

And you,

You won't believe me when I say that I'm sorry for missing that dinner we planned on.  And the other and the other.  You'll doubt me from now on, when I say, "Oh, yeah, I'll be there!  Totally, see you then."  I can only imagine how shocked you were, that time I found myself yelling my brains out at you while standing outside of the library on campus, like I had never yelled at anyone before.  My eyes were watering and I was shaky.  People were staring.  I only half-noticed.  It became apparent that you had no idea how exhausted I was, that I was completely incapable of carrying my weight as well as yours.  It was a mistake to assume you somehow knew.  I should have told you before it all came spilling out of me like that, boiling hot and bound to leave scars.

It's just that I didn't know how to tell you.  I didn't want to let you down.  It seemed like a better idea to passively take it all in, but the truth is that I was deficient.  I had spent my entire life keeping my head down to avoid the conflict that I don't think I knew "No" was even a valid answer.


And You,

You had such unprecedented timing, just showing up the way you did.  At the precise moment that everyone I had come to depend on copped out, fell away, turned to traitors, you were there.  You were holding my head to your chest while I cried in the Costa Vida parking lot.  You were telling me that you knew I've been through a lot you hadn't, but this you could relate to.  This you understood.

It was never a question of whether or not I could trust you.  It was more dependent on whether or not I was going to decide to deserve what I knew you could give.

these days.

When you set those bridges to flame, did you take a moment to consider the consequence?  Did it even go through your mind once that I'd be stuck on this side with you?

it's probably my fault.

It's coming on quick.  We're getting to it now.  The point that you've been pushing me toward.  The point where I'm going to have to tell you "No."  Where I'm sure you won't understand. 

And we'll always remember this as the moment where you and I were never the same.

none.

While you were away,
I learned to keep myself company
for longer than anyone should.
While you were away,
I picked lilacs to lure you in,
but it didn't do any good.

I won't be unreasonable.
I won't say I blame you
for everything wrong with me.
But it does seems as though
you're at the heart of all my stress.

There's no telling when I'll see you again.
But thanks for being present when you could.
Thanks for assembling me, I guess.

none.

Your only explanation is, "People do this all of the time."

And you're absolutely right.  People do really terrible things that aren't good or wholesome or in their best interest all of the time.  It's quite common.

What I can't figure out is what that fact has to do with you; you aren't common.

a different kind of missing.

The thing is, I tried to make plans, but you only canceled again.  And I have no doubt that you really were sick and tired, like you said.

I just hope not of me.

Maybe by now we're more like two people with memories than actual friends.  Because you no longer rely on me to remind you to breathe, though I think that was the goal all along.  And this next part is selfish, I'd never deny that even once. I guess I just miss how it felt for you to need me.