flows

Like an infinite time warp I spend this life in an endless stream of thought. bubbles bursting across the river in a blaze of peanut butter and popcorn. there is no sense in the order of what you think is right and good. there is more sense in what you think is chaotic and meaningless.  you and me and all of us we try to bring order to that which we don't understand but its the kind of order that only makes sense to us. then we because we are all weak minded and foolish grasp on to whatever order flows the direction that most often intersects with our own.  top hats and cherry trees and people running around in naked photo shoots on cherry wood stair cases in apartment buildings converted from old homes backed by stained glass windows. please hide him from me. i don't want him to see me like this - she says...  i should have known - but it doesn't matter i was crippled as I am now.  i run into corners and cover my face in plain site for every one to see but not notice.  she did.  i don't like that she noticed my face - that she knows my name that she looks at me with those eyes.  that i think - that she is on my radar - that i can't help that among that millions she creeps into the ones that i latch onto.  there are days when the blackness would have been much simpler when the flows would be easier if they didn't come out like a thousand branches of a very complex tree that grows in and connects to every tree in the world and sees every branch that it connects to.  i know it's not really like that it just feels that way. every clear day in the world should generate cupcake colored clouds that pour liquid happiness into our brains like an opiate so that when we have the cloudy days we can always be happy when it's raining.  I love the rain. I love thunder.  I love when the condensation in the atmosphere becomes too heavy to maintain it's vaporous state, falls, and hits me in the face.  I walk in the rain without an umbrella...  I laugh at people who use umbrellas when it's only sprinkling.  Like water is the worst possible thing that could touch them - and they get wet anyway...  my jacket might not be made of bacon, but it keeps me looking nice enough. i guess.  I suppose I have image problems, but I don't think they are based on some kind of psychological issue. anthropology...  I'm not a good looking person. I take comfort in the fact that a lot of people are in the same boat.

A first at first

A week of firsts has left me feeling just a little more lonely than I was before.  Over-thinking, wishing, trying...rince; repeat.  My nerves are frayed; my hands are shaking; typing this seems impossible; I'm having serious trouble understanding why...

From all fronts my mind is torn when it comes to how I feel and what I should do. I honestly didn't know it was possible for me to feel this way. A big part of me thinks (knows) that any step I take other than "do nothing" will be a mistake.  I'm not keen on  putting people into awkward positions for the sake of getting something off my chest.

My friends say that I couldn't possibly know he outcome of putting myself into these situations.  "What's the worst that could happen?": has been bounced around a lot the last couple weeks.  Also posit the situation where I get what I want...maybe too much of it...measure your happiness  vs the angst of possibly loosing a friendship that isn't even a real friendship.

I look into her eyes and feel the pointlessness of my endeavor.  "Prove me wrong," I think, "and I'll prove you wrong."

The first time I really considered being wholly honest with her.
The frist time I looked hard at someone for a long time.
The first time someone made me feel special.
The first phone number.
The first date, though that's not what it was.
The first time I didn't feel completely alone.
The first time someone made me feel really wanted.
The first time someone saw what I was really feeling.

It wasn't the first time I hid.
Not the first time I thought too much.
Not the first time I was confused about what I want.
Not the first time I made someone run away.
Not the first night I didn't sleep.
Not the first obsession.
Not the first time I felt like disappearing.
Not the first time I kept it all inside.
Not the first time I didn't act on my feelings.
Not the first weekend alone.
Not the first Monday running away for some time alone, wishing that someone was here to interrupt it.