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overripe, rusting on the vine
May. 30th, 2007 07:38 pmThere's a certain selfishness that comes with a particular kind of tiredness for me; guilt, obligation, apparatuses of control all fall away leaving me with just desire and goal(s). I used to assign this all to the extrapersonal, and dismiss it as anomalous or regressive. I think that's a mistake. The pared down, stripped bare isn't necessarily something to dismiss as primitive and immature. Now, how to haul that out when more energy is present?
I want; I know this, well. I don't know what to do with it. I know how I want, but I don't trust anyone to want me like I want others, and I don't trust myself to manifest this wanting; I hold it in check out of some concern about propriety, equity in the meanest, safest sense. From the inside out, it's blunted, dissipated; from the outside in, I'm crippled with doubt and some unexamined criteria that work at dangerous cross purposes. I fucking hate being this stupid.
Lunch with my mom today has me thinking about the nature of relationships, of withering and responsibility for states as encountered. It's easy for me to let relationships fade, particularly those that are assigned importance: family, childhood friends, etc. The experience of meaningless superficiality from the one person who has known me longer than anyone else was... insightful? There wasn't the resentment and conflict I usually experience, but instead, there was just... nothing. It was like I was talking to someone I've known on a shallow basis for some time, but never bothered to develop anything meaningful with, which probably isn't that far from the truth.
It made me realize: I don't talk to my stepfather, the best parental figure I've ever had; I don't talk to my godsibling, who I've known since I was four; I haven't talked to my dad in over four years; I haven't talked to my godmother, who's got some sort of degenerative dementia, but who I love with a brutal passion, for going on ten. I think of this as the cost of my closet. I'm unwilling to keep actively hiding, but I've also been unwilling to take the action required to step out, so... I just let so much fade. It's just as wrong to assign meaning indiscriminately to these people and connections as it is to indiscriminately let them all decay.
I want; I know this, well. I don't know what to do with it. I know how I want, but I don't trust anyone to want me like I want others, and I don't trust myself to manifest this wanting; I hold it in check out of some concern about propriety, equity in the meanest, safest sense. From the inside out, it's blunted, dissipated; from the outside in, I'm crippled with doubt and some unexamined criteria that work at dangerous cross purposes. I fucking hate being this stupid.
Lunch with my mom today has me thinking about the nature of relationships, of withering and responsibility for states as encountered. It's easy for me to let relationships fade, particularly those that are assigned importance: family, childhood friends, etc. The experience of meaningless superficiality from the one person who has known me longer than anyone else was... insightful? There wasn't the resentment and conflict I usually experience, but instead, there was just... nothing. It was like I was talking to someone I've known on a shallow basis for some time, but never bothered to develop anything meaningful with, which probably isn't that far from the truth.
It made me realize: I don't talk to my stepfather, the best parental figure I've ever had; I don't talk to my godsibling, who I've known since I was four; I haven't talked to my dad in over four years; I haven't talked to my godmother, who's got some sort of degenerative dementia, but who I love with a brutal passion, for going on ten. I think of this as the cost of my closet. I'm unwilling to keep actively hiding, but I've also been unwilling to take the action required to step out, so... I just let so much fade. It's just as wrong to assign meaning indiscriminately to these people and connections as it is to indiscriminately let them all decay.
