am i even interested in classifying this as progress or regress?
these past few days have been perplexing; off-putting. change, that implacable force (of whose presence i can usually be counted on to be aware) slips in and out of doors with no regard for the standing organization therein. this isn’t to say i’m a mess, you understand, because it’s hardly so dramatic as all that. in any case, many of you would know, were i in danger of dissolving. and thank you for the informed involvement of your presence (something i *could* repeat often enough, but i won’t tempt your ire by stating and restating and stating until you’re ready to do terrible things to my phone to prevent me from broken-record-ing).
so many plans have fallen through in the past few days, which has left me to my own devices, to mixed ends. after years of clinging to what i thought was a refuge, it seems i’ve realized that the air’s not great in there and the books on the shelves are, in fact, fictional. people flake, mis-schedule, and overcommit not because they’ve finally “discovered” one of my character flaws and no longer have the time of day for me, and not because i’m not worth staying for. things fall apart. the human condition prevails. how narcissistic am i, to require a me-centric motive for what are only happenstances and manifestations of basic fallibility? it’s not worth my energy to foment self-degradation, and it’s not worth anyone else’s to disprove my assumptions and to mend the resulting damage.
for reasons undiscovered (at least, undiscussed) (we’ll save the analysis for next week) (shut up, guys), i operate with a deep level of feeling for the people who appear in my life either with regularity or with meaning, and i am comfortable expressing said, an act that seems foreign to a depressing majority out of the couple/relationship/amorous love context. What This Means for You is that i care, simply and sincerely. it’s rare enough that i become “done” with someone’s presence in my day-to-day unless i have been deceived, manipulated, or otherwise mistreated on a grand scale. from this fact, another has sprouted, like those redwood trees featuring saplings growing from their gargantuan trunks, fifty feet from the ground. i fear the day when Others (my title for “friends/people in my life/etc”) grow tired of me. i analyze myself to shreds to prevent the occurrence of anything that might further this end. i worry and wait, worry and wait, and begin attaching weight to situations that were only meant to blow away. and i am tired.
so no more. people come and go, and i need to let them, if they choose to, without assigning blame.
