The more I feel, the less I want to. As I find myself caring more than I feel I should be, I struggle to find reasons to slow down - or maybe stop altogether. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't, but I do it all the same. Maybe its self-defense - this desire to move away, to retreat, or failing that to drive you away. Perhaps it's safer also to bring an end to something-that-must-end sooner, rather than later. So I push, and I pull, and I tug and I challenge you to let me go - all the while hoping that you never do.
June 21, 2011
Feelings and me are uncomfortable companions. What happened, I wonder, to the starry-eyed optimist that believed that diving in headfirst was better than wading in one scared step at a time? For months now, I've been inching into this pool, painfully feeling miserably cold, somewhat afraid the whole time. What if I fall, what if I get hurt, what if I'm left alone at the end of this journey? What happened to the person who made decisions first and thought about them later? There are times, now, when I think my life has been reduced to an ever-vacillating thought process compelling one-step-forward but two-steps-back until I'm stranded in this perpetual state of non-moving indecision.