Sand once told me that a she though a certain young man liked me. One of my friends in high school used to tease me about a college student at my church. I liked neither, but I like the idea of being liked. We humans are created for community and the idea of being warmly held in another's affections is so tantalizingly sweet. To walk into a room and be greeted by a smile. To know that smile echos the attraction you feel. The electrical pulse of a touch. The longing for for these and the emptiness of their absence.
When my friend teased me I didn't mind because it was oddly sweet, if mostly bitter. It was a catharsis that would not satisfy. It was dangerous ground and I knew it and added it to a large over reaction against emotional proximity that would last until college.
When Sand mentioned the mutual friend she didn't know it and I don't blame her in the slightest for my mind's over reaction and lighting imagination. I hate the place that my imagination takes me concerning unfulfilled desires, particularly where men are concerned. I don't like not knowing and I especially don't like knowing if there is an imbalance of affection between me and another. I like to know how things work and I am not a patient person. Waiting for another to say "I like you a lot" is not a comfortable place.
All that to say, Sand, I know what it's like to analyze over and over again the words and the expressions and gestures and everything that makes up an interaction. Dear one, analyzing poetry is child's play after the rigorous explications we do on the things boys say.
I cannot give advice, only empathy.
When my friend teased me I didn't mind because it was oddly sweet, if mostly bitter. It was a catharsis that would not satisfy. It was dangerous ground and I knew it and added it to a large over reaction against emotional proximity that would last until college.
When Sand mentioned the mutual friend she didn't know it and I don't blame her in the slightest for my mind's over reaction and lighting imagination. I hate the place that my imagination takes me concerning unfulfilled desires, particularly where men are concerned. I don't like not knowing and I especially don't like knowing if there is an imbalance of affection between me and another. I like to know how things work and I am not a patient person. Waiting for another to say "I like you a lot" is not a comfortable place.
All that to say, Sand, I know what it's like to analyze over and over again the words and the expressions and gestures and everything that makes up an interaction. Dear one, analyzing poetry is child's play after the rigorous explications we do on the things boys say.
I cannot give advice, only empathy.
