Blame it on a lack of experience. There I was, with the opportunity I'd apparently wanted for a few months now -- initial bridges crossed, shared jokes exchanged, and an evening spread out farther than I could see. But it's only the morning after that I'm able to think up the things I should have said, and shake my head at what actually went down. I have a familiar sense of regret, but while usually it's a dull background to my mind's inconsequential chatter, now I feel throbbing and pressing up against my skin. Mistakes, I think, are not something I can afford any longer.
Blame it also on my endless search for the mysteries of the self. Not only has it turned up nothing of value some ten years on, it also seems to left a lingering sense of delusion that all of my internal minutiae has even a passing interest to anyone else. So it goes that when a drop of this is drawn out, perhaps out of curiosity or kindness, what follows is a drowning that would be terrifying where it not so unimaginably boring. Only when laid bare in the most inappropriate of circumstances does it become plain to me: there's really nothing here, deep inside me, that anyone needs to be aware of. (If I could also be ignorant of it, that would be a plus, but I don't hold my breath.)
What I should have done seems deceptively obvious in hindsight. For a start, have every sentence feature the word "you". (This self is a stranded vessel trying to find its way to a harbour; each wave it makes, every strip of land in sight finds a way to bury itself in the water.) More specifically, I should have sought some detail, if they were willing to give it, on a few off-hand remarks scattered over the last months, hinting as they did on a private world as complex as my own. (Let me try to solve my problems by overpowering them with someone else's.)
As things stand, while proceedings concluded cordially enough, I know that the sight of what dwells within must have been disturbing. Left to rue over another day's worth of poor choices, I wonder when this journey of self-actualisation will complete, if ever. Dissecting events to learn lessons is valuable, but how can it be that I still need to be taught the most basic rules of conduct? Anyway, for what it's worth, here's today's lesson: it's a sad reality that to let anyone want to get closer, I first have to completely suppress myself.
More optimistically, put another way, I have to suppress the negative part of myself. Because I do believe there is a positive part, and that it's one that can have a greater say in how I operate. It's probably the part that kicks in when I do anything that involves me not be the focal point. Lending a helping hand, say; why don't I do that more, again? The negative self chirps in with a mountain of reasons, but I'm not in the mood to pay it any mind. I'd much rather revisit a line that held some sway when I first read it: become the person you want to be. Figuring out who that is in entirety, that's perhaps one goal of my muddled musings. Figuring out one or two things that person would do, that's easy. Ring up and say sorry, for a start. And then work to earn a place back at the table.
Blame it also on my endless search for the mysteries of the self. Not only has it turned up nothing of value some ten years on, it also seems to left a lingering sense of delusion that all of my internal minutiae has even a passing interest to anyone else. So it goes that when a drop of this is drawn out, perhaps out of curiosity or kindness, what follows is a drowning that would be terrifying where it not so unimaginably boring. Only when laid bare in the most inappropriate of circumstances does it become plain to me: there's really nothing here, deep inside me, that anyone needs to be aware of. (If I could also be ignorant of it, that would be a plus, but I don't hold my breath.)
What I should have done seems deceptively obvious in hindsight. For a start, have every sentence feature the word "you". (This self is a stranded vessel trying to find its way to a harbour; each wave it makes, every strip of land in sight finds a way to bury itself in the water.) More specifically, I should have sought some detail, if they were willing to give it, on a few off-hand remarks scattered over the last months, hinting as they did on a private world as complex as my own. (Let me try to solve my problems by overpowering them with someone else's.)
As things stand, while proceedings concluded cordially enough, I know that the sight of what dwells within must have been disturbing. Left to rue over another day's worth of poor choices, I wonder when this journey of self-actualisation will complete, if ever. Dissecting events to learn lessons is valuable, but how can it be that I still need to be taught the most basic rules of conduct? Anyway, for what it's worth, here's today's lesson: it's a sad reality that to let anyone want to get closer, I first have to completely suppress myself.
More optimistically, put another way, I have to suppress the negative part of myself. Because I do believe there is a positive part, and that it's one that can have a greater say in how I operate. It's probably the part that kicks in when I do anything that involves me not be the focal point. Lending a helping hand, say; why don't I do that more, again? The negative self chirps in with a mountain of reasons, but I'm not in the mood to pay it any mind. I'd much rather revisit a line that held some sway when I first read it: become the person you want to be. Figuring out who that is in entirety, that's perhaps one goal of my muddled musings. Figuring out one or two things that person would do, that's easy. Ring up and say sorry, for a start. And then work to earn a place back at the table.
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