Twip
Bluelighter
Dearest thou,
I, my voice has been hibernating while I learn the rudimentary aspects of discipline. I lack that—discipline; so do you. We've always known that, though. Anyway, I've been stumbling around fucking silently for entirely too long; since I can't remember when, because I just haven't realized it was a need of mine to wake up fully every day. That's unfortunate. (I love that word in all its tilts.)
You were a crush of mine the moment I laid eyes upon you; it's just our way. But your embodying my fancy led to me readying myself to promise myself to you before I could even give myself a chance to care or understand what I was signing myself over to. I -- back up.
---
At some point, I got disillusioned with bullshit. All I saw the moment it happened was bullshit spewing forth from every previously possible outlet, and I shut down. My answer to all the bullshit was, "Fuck you Bullshit, man!" and I shut off the expressive facet of Me. Well, fledgling ideas are fragile, right, and every time mine have begun to peck out into the world, through their shells, they've been cut out or, worse, lost in one of my tangents and never picked back up. So I just stopped speaking, in order to save the world my share of bullshit.
---
That didn't work out as I wished, for obvious reasons. Anyway, back -- at when I met you, I was buying into your personal brand of bullshit about guys, and in that I let you kind of steamroll over me, because you never could've believed that I would buy in so easily in the first place! But I just never got that, so it's been 'okay' and that's a problem, no? You're wasting your time around someone who can't or won't distinguish bullshit from truth, especially your own, because we all need someone to point it out to ourselves when we're being too loud to hear ourselves. But you've also seen me somewhat aware and catching some of the things, so these have been promising signs, no?
The truth has been held silent from me, but I've always expected you to bullshit me too. It's fun, if nothing else! So sometimes I filter in some of the more present statements you make as "bullshit" without giving them a chance -- for instance, when you start unraveling your understanding of males to me, I (have) shut off prematurely, before I could even catch your point and help you clarify it. I'm sorry for that; I'm learning to listen.
Anyway -- you shut boys off. When it came down to it, [boy's name] never quite understood how to make you listen to him in his way, so I think he stopped trying in the face of having to confront you about it, playing instead the eternal waiting game that we're all so used to playing today. What you both didn't quite understand at the time was why the two of you didn't fit, or click, together, even though you were attracted to each other -- and maybe, even, that you didn't. (..Click, I mean.)
Clicking, unfortunately, often has to do with our current stages of growing up, so I think the two of you were leaving the other hanging out to dry in many ways, while simultaneously feeling (thrust into being) overly responsible for each other. Sorry, it's just a guess, really.
---
So, you still come to pieces at times when confronting what [boy's name] meant to you, but that's just a process of acceptance and learning and setting yourself straight, so that's okay right now. I need to stop expecting you to pay attention to me at all times in the first place -- learn, instead, to ask for it, so any cradled understanding can remain intact throughout it. I am, by the way, sorry for not getting it that night at Burning Man: that you weren't feeling me. I grok that now, in retrospect. Unfortunate, too.
---
As a side-note,
I have a way of distracting, don't I? I think I understand much more now what I have for people -- healthy distraction! The kind that doesn't shut you down with its syruppy bullshit, but instead kickstarts your mind into thinking. I'm good at distracting the mind from bullshit, if I try hard enough. (Did you believe me when I said I'm good at it? Haha, it's a wish.)
---
So you've been waiting on me. If I tell you you're being incredibly nice to me in that way, you need to understand that I mean that nobody bothers waiting on me to say my lot; I'm a little slow with expression and somewhat ignorant of how to fit it in, so people would just leave off without me, and I would follow. You're actually making the effort to ask me what I have to say. For you, this is chiefly because I hold your interest, but on my end it touches me. 'No'm'sa'in'?
---
I'm not happy that I didn't deliver (on my assurances) to you. I didn't talk to you last night, and I said I would—BULLSHIT. No, I really don't like that. (More bullshit ladled on -- I'm a man who doesn't like this bad thing! Love me!!) What happened was, I found a very ready outlet who called me out of the blue, Kat; she has a way of just getting started talking that distracts me from being so wrapped up in myself, so (amidst head-thuddingly calling your apologetically turned-off cell-phone) realizing that she was back in town trying to learn to get over the sorry kid who impregnated her, I told her I'd come out to see her. The rest of the night unfolded slowly, and I'm not very good at watching where my folds fall, which led to our awkward phone conversation in the night.
---
I get the feeling you're getting annoyed at the incredible rambling occurring here, so I should wrap this up: You know I'm full of bullshit (but I wonder if you knew how much
and I know you've got your own, for shits. I LOVE dancing with that realization in conversation with you, so being around you is fun for me. I call bullshit in its face, playfully. It's The Game. So we leave each other hanging a lot, and it's not that "we shouldn't stand for that," as I previously, ignorantly would've thought, but that we each have to deal with that individually. That's the part I never got. Now that that clicked into place, Yes, I agree with you! More Time. I've been giving it more time from the beginning, so I'm glad you're with me on that. I've just been so boorish in between... and you haven't quite been catching that as it plays out. So we need more time to express to each other, you and I, and try on the resulting feelings for size.
...but yeah, the reason people don't let me talk is that once I start I never stop. That's a lot, and I'm learning to manage that, slowly. So I guess we'll see how it fits? I can't wait for this Friday -- if you're still on.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Was this provoking for you, if quite rambly and irrelevent? Yes, you, reading this right now. Was it striking? (Could it have been more striking?) I need some kind of feedback on this—I'm fledgeling. (...besides that I should've picked a more interesting topic to post this about)
I, my voice has been hibernating while I learn the rudimentary aspects of discipline. I lack that—discipline; so do you. We've always known that, though. Anyway, I've been stumbling around fucking silently for entirely too long; since I can't remember when, because I just haven't realized it was a need of mine to wake up fully every day. That's unfortunate. (I love that word in all its tilts.)
You were a crush of mine the moment I laid eyes upon you; it's just our way. But your embodying my fancy led to me readying myself to promise myself to you before I could even give myself a chance to care or understand what I was signing myself over to. I -- back up.
---
At some point, I got disillusioned with bullshit. All I saw the moment it happened was bullshit spewing forth from every previously possible outlet, and I shut down. My answer to all the bullshit was, "Fuck you Bullshit, man!" and I shut off the expressive facet of Me. Well, fledgling ideas are fragile, right, and every time mine have begun to peck out into the world, through their shells, they've been cut out or, worse, lost in one of my tangents and never picked back up. So I just stopped speaking, in order to save the world my share of bullshit.
---
That didn't work out as I wished, for obvious reasons. Anyway, back -- at when I met you, I was buying into your personal brand of bullshit about guys, and in that I let you kind of steamroll over me, because you never could've believed that I would buy in so easily in the first place! But I just never got that, so it's been 'okay' and that's a problem, no? You're wasting your time around someone who can't or won't distinguish bullshit from truth, especially your own, because we all need someone to point it out to ourselves when we're being too loud to hear ourselves. But you've also seen me somewhat aware and catching some of the things, so these have been promising signs, no?
The truth has been held silent from me, but I've always expected you to bullshit me too. It's fun, if nothing else! So sometimes I filter in some of the more present statements you make as "bullshit" without giving them a chance -- for instance, when you start unraveling your understanding of males to me, I (have) shut off prematurely, before I could even catch your point and help you clarify it. I'm sorry for that; I'm learning to listen.
Anyway -- you shut boys off. When it came down to it, [boy's name] never quite understood how to make you listen to him in his way, so I think he stopped trying in the face of having to confront you about it, playing instead the eternal waiting game that we're all so used to playing today. What you both didn't quite understand at the time was why the two of you didn't fit, or click, together, even though you were attracted to each other -- and maybe, even, that you didn't. (..Click, I mean.)
Clicking, unfortunately, often has to do with our current stages of growing up, so I think the two of you were leaving the other hanging out to dry in many ways, while simultaneously feeling (thrust into being) overly responsible for each other. Sorry, it's just a guess, really.
---
So, you still come to pieces at times when confronting what [boy's name] meant to you, but that's just a process of acceptance and learning and setting yourself straight, so that's okay right now. I need to stop expecting you to pay attention to me at all times in the first place -- learn, instead, to ask for it, so any cradled understanding can remain intact throughout it. I am, by the way, sorry for not getting it that night at Burning Man: that you weren't feeling me. I grok that now, in retrospect. Unfortunate, too.
---
As a side-note,
I have a way of distracting, don't I? I think I understand much more now what I have for people -- healthy distraction! The kind that doesn't shut you down with its syruppy bullshit, but instead kickstarts your mind into thinking. I'm good at distracting the mind from bullshit, if I try hard enough. (Did you believe me when I said I'm good at it? Haha, it's a wish.)
---
So you've been waiting on me. If I tell you you're being incredibly nice to me in that way, you need to understand that I mean that nobody bothers waiting on me to say my lot; I'm a little slow with expression and somewhat ignorant of how to fit it in, so people would just leave off without me, and I would follow. You're actually making the effort to ask me what I have to say. For you, this is chiefly because I hold your interest, but on my end it touches me. 'No'm'sa'in'?
---
I'm not happy that I didn't deliver (on my assurances) to you. I didn't talk to you last night, and I said I would—BULLSHIT. No, I really don't like that. (More bullshit ladled on -- I'm a man who doesn't like this bad thing! Love me!!) What happened was, I found a very ready outlet who called me out of the blue, Kat; she has a way of just getting started talking that distracts me from being so wrapped up in myself, so (amidst head-thuddingly calling your apologetically turned-off cell-phone) realizing that she was back in town trying to learn to get over the sorry kid who impregnated her, I told her I'd come out to see her. The rest of the night unfolded slowly, and I'm not very good at watching where my folds fall, which led to our awkward phone conversation in the night.
---
I get the feeling you're getting annoyed at the incredible rambling occurring here, so I should wrap this up: You know I'm full of bullshit (but I wonder if you knew how much
and I know you've got your own, for shits. I LOVE dancing with that realization in conversation with you, so being around you is fun for me. I call bullshit in its face, playfully. It's The Game. So we leave each other hanging a lot, and it's not that "we shouldn't stand for that," as I previously, ignorantly would've thought, but that we each have to deal with that individually. That's the part I never got. Now that that clicked into place, Yes, I agree with you! More Time. I've been giving it more time from the beginning, so I'm glad you're with me on that. I've just been so boorish in between... and you haven't quite been catching that as it plays out. So we need more time to express to each other, you and I, and try on the resulting feelings for size. ...but yeah, the reason people don't let me talk is that once I start I never stop. That's a lot, and I'm learning to manage that, slowly. So I guess we'll see how it fits? I can't wait for this Friday -- if you're still on.
Ever so sincerely,
My Beautiful Name Here
My Beautiful Name Here
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Was this provoking for you, if quite rambly and irrelevent? Yes, you, reading this right now. Was it striking? (Could it have been more striking?) I need some kind of feedback on this—I'm fledgeling. (...besides that I should've picked a more interesting topic to post this about)
