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Sunday, April 13, 2008


As my life has unfolded in the past few weeks, I find myself filled with words I am unable to say. There is nothing frightening, overwhelming or unworthy in the unexpressed thoughts, I simply wonder what my intent would be in speaking. For so long each post has had a thrust and purpose--I knew exactly why the sentences were written and there was a sense of intense relief as I published them.

Recently I wrote of the feeling that my life was circling back to where it began two years ago. That feeling still seethes and surprises me when I least expect it. The raw expressing of feelings, memories, and hopes are not typical of me. Those who have only known me in this venue would not recognize the person who used to listen intently as others spoke, commenting just enough to keep the conversation flowing and always steering it away from herself. The impulse to do so once again becomes stronger each day.

Not that I believe there is any fault to be found in a good listener. The problem, I suppose is that I hide myself within another's need to be heard. It is very comfortable to disappear in the words of someone who wishes to become known.

For a little while I longed to be that person--to shout my story to any who would listen--to force people to notice me--to stand up and be counted. To that end I wrote daily, hiding little. I am wondering now exactly what I hoped would be gained by my exhibitionism.

Today, especially as I wonder what Darrin will ultimately choose, I feel muteness stretch inside me. I no longer wish to express my feelings, talk about my life, laugh spontaneously. I still wish for a quiet place--for a sheltering arm--I suppose, ultimately, I will never outgrow the desire for someone to step in and take away the things that scare or hurt me. I am not, nor have I ever been as strong as I would like to believe I am.

I am not unhappy. But I wonder sometimes, as the feelings engulf me, if I will ever again wish to talk about them. And if I choose to, I wonder who will listen. And if someone is listening, I wonder if it will simply be so that he might hide within my words, avoiding connection with humanity, just quietly allowing the monologue to wash over him, grateful that he remains unknown.

I understand that.

1 comment:

  1. I've heard some interesting things they're able to do with mind-altering drugs recently. Specifically, the ability to make people forget certain things. If you could forget the god-awful things that have happened to you (just the worst of them), would you? I think I would if I were in your circumstances, but I'm curious if there's any reason you wouldn't.