Angry. Not as much as I used to be. But, The hurt of being refused when offering help, or in this case, encouragement, is one of the most biting and non-sensical feelings. Why is it our tendency to influence people and derive joy out of it? Do we think that gets us closer to them? Probably.
What I, or most other people, for that matter, do not realize that giving a friend space to think, to act, and to respond, is best help that can be offered.
Moot is the point of imposing a print of you on the one in front of you, and wanting that print to respond, instead of wishing for an independent mind.
How can one explore closeness then? Through indifference? Isn't that unpoetic irony?
Care is another way that comes to mind. But isn't encouragement an extension of care? Anyhow, what is selfless care; explain that to me.
How do friends grow together then? Sharing is a definite yes. But it's boring. After a point, whatever and how-much-ever you share, the result is insipid stability, and nothing else. The relationship needs conflicts, creative and destructive disagreement, dissent of opinions, and romance. Whoever said romance is an exclusive premise of lovers. I can romance out with my mom. Fuck you, whoever.
Pain, discomfort, awkwardness, or rather the delivery from them, makes two people understand each other better, at successive watersheds of their parallel. This is not some hollow bullshit on love, this is basic human connection I'm taking about, you chick.
Of course, I could I just give up making sense of this. I'm sure every independent mind out there must think that from time-to-time, and ignore that paraplegic thought as often.
What I am convinced of, that I was never earlier, is that I cannot, and bloody should not stop thinking. Stop experimenting. Stop moving. Stop seeing. And stop believing.
Refusing to think after a point, refusing to reach just that extra inch out, is old people stuff.
I'm young.
I won't go down with a white flag on my ship,
I won't lose my wise-cracking 2 cents,
Cause that is all that is good to me.
The Mojo will keep on rising.
Is she a drug?
The yearn, an itch when she's near,
a craving when she parts,
a gash when she withdraws the diurnal fix.
2 comments:
for want of a flow to your thoughts, everyone who disagrees is a 'chick'?? ..there are other rhyming words too you know.. go back to eighth grade!
Ahem. Two things.
For one, in this piece, I am in an internal conflict with myself. Hence, I am angry at myself, and at nobody else.
Secondly, as an extension, the conversation I'm having here is with myself. Any swear words and demeaning language I've used is directed at me, or the part of me that is too chick and girly to disagree with the sensible, rebellious and the cooler me. And, I can call myself whatever 8th grader terminology that appeals to my juvenile brain. Hmpf.
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