Eventually, the journey becomes one of leaving behind the shell… developing confidence… to live in the moment, escaping my own neediness. Yet I find I’m not quite yet ready to stop clinging to the layers and levels of “i”, and slip out of my safe harbor… or to allow others into the process I’m undergoing, even those I am closest to… but it’s not a matter of trust. I feel as if I am aspiring to the letting go and towards transcendence of materialism and all views of self-ness. Where this leads is unknown… it’s like giving up your point of reference.
At times, when I am alone, I become truly in touch with the depth of love I have… but I seldom show those intense feelings… imagined fears of ridicule or rejection… or worse, apathy. And yet, here I have all these poems… it’s kind of a paradox that words, even those poetic words, are so limiting and somehow never fully convey that depth.
I try to imagine that I’m just like everybody else… even while wearing layers of masks, pretending to be normal, whatever that is… but the pretense doesn’t ever fool me, and I never really feel as if I fit in with this world. I think I am a mystery to people, and I allow them to make their assumptions… they seldom really understand me, (some are more insightful than others)… and part of me enjoys that… more often, though, I just long to be understood and accepted as I am, cared for, perhaps (although I know there are people that care for me, currently, at least)… even while I never feel that I quite measure up to my own high standards for myself, standards which I don’t hold anyone else to, btw. Quite the Catch 22.
