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From the ghost land of the easy life.

21 May 2006

and i'm glad that i knew him at all :
I live in my head a lot. To the point where things don't get said because based on other things that did get said, I'm pretty sure what I'm trying to convey will get over explained, said wrong or misconstrued. And there are no words to make me feel I can say what refuses to come out of my mouth. So I write it down. I pass it on. Then people know. It kinda seems like the 'chicken' solution to conversations I should be able to have, but it's the only real way I have to say somethings to some people.

Truth is I'm in a strange frame of mind. I don't necessarily sleep well with others, and I've found someone to sleep with. I'm kinda freaking out about the whole evolution because it seems fast, but in my mind it plays out slow. I'm freaking mostly because I have such star studded potential to fail to say the right thing at the right time and make things go bad. Even though I'm a good dancer I have historically proven to be someone who suffers from tactless abandonment of logical thought process and screaming inability to remove my foot from my mouth. Being good with words fails me when I feel direly compelled to use them words, to make sense of the person I am. It doesn't help that he doesn't know me and can't read my mind, because I mystify him and he questions me and I balk at that - for no real reason. Maybe because my intentions are impure.

I am complicatedly tied up in worry that I will fail and I have a hundred thousand questions that if started will come out like the most awful interrogation ever to be. Slow. It's nice when things are slow. My world, the frenetic place in my head where I live, is NEVER slow and then I found someone to sleep with. And there are these moments where everything is still and quiet -> inside. I long to go with it, revel in it and let it go on forever. And the irony is - he talks a lot. It makes me nervous, and I question myself - because I don't want to be thinking. It's nice and quiet in my head, and instinct is kicking in and I'm loosening up and it's rare => I'm guarded and don't like to let go. I've learned the hard way it's not a good thing to do that. To just be there and enjoy.

All this is uncomfortable to say, but I - as reigning queen of the overshare - I say it anyway. Yes, he reads my blog. I don't know if I can even publish this because I know he reads my blog and I judge myself harshly for all my self perceived weaknesses. 'It's folly' my mind screams, to publish this. 'You should say these things in person to him.' Yet I hold out hope he can understand that I can't hear myself think in the slowness he gives me. And that is a good thing for me. I look forward to it.

Keep blogging.
ghost writer Ambrrrr at 10:38 PM

MenTal fUrbAll