Lessons

I don't show people my vulnerability very easily. I don't trust them with it. Experience has taught me that it usually leads to pain, insecurity, and fear. Thus, I am very, very careful about who I give my Self to.

I'd like to say "lesson learned," but really, I'm not sure if the lesson is to give my Self less often, or to give less of my Self.

I'll keep you posted.

Confusion

I am clinging to his voice, holding on to bits of information which enter my brain as the sound of my lover. It is like holding on to a thread in the wind. For all I know he is just a figment of my imagination.

Right now, he is inconcrete. He is not like my daughter, who holds me on this earth through bindings stronger than steel. Were it not for her, I would have ceased to exist long ago. He is there too, my ghost man, my other half. But for now he can't soothe me to sleep when the sobs wrack my body until every muscle screams. He can't hold me when my insecurities start chewing on my cortices, threatening to eat me alive. He can't tether me to this plane by entwining his fingers in mine.

Three thousand miles. Three thousand miles. Three thousand miles.

So very far.

I want to reach over those miles and grab hold of him. Make him real and solid and corporeal. I want to know that I've not created him out of nothing. I shake with the fear that he will dissipate into smoke. I shake with the fear that this has all been little more than breath and fancy. I shake with the fear that I will saydothinkfeel things that will cause him to fly.

Time has grown so very long. So many more steps to take. So many more chances at ruin.