Chess moves become interesting when the board lies on its side. These quick steps with toes underfoot -- teasing the water with red, looking for the spaces in-between. The music in concert with the places held closest to the heart, sometimes together, sometimes not. It's like bedcovers pulled to hide from the chill, or toes exposed in the spaces between rooms.
If we're both wide awake at the same hour, then why can't we see each other anymore?
Good session last night with the Lucy. It's weird, even though in the end the things we ended up talking about were things that I already knew -- having them put on the table in front of me that way by someone I don't really know opened my eyes in a way that I never really expected.
Things about what the real issues are
Things about how the real solutions need to be approached.
Things that reach much farther than just the current situation.
Things about approaching problems from a different standpoint.
Makes me wonder why I waited so long to get this kind of help, you know?
Up until this point I had been quietly kind of complaining about him, saying that it felt like I was doing all the talking, that he didn't really seem to be offering me all that much, and that I would frequently come out of sessions feeling unsure about where I should go next. But last night seemed to open up a vein. I'm hoping tonight with the other counselor will do more of the same, but the vibe there is so very different that it's hard to tell.
But then again, maybe it's time I approached
that process from a different standpoint as well.
It's like I'm sailing in a paper boat.
It's like I'm standing in a glass house full of little, throwable rocks.
It's like I'm curled up on the couch in my own college apartment while the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, my best friend (whom I'm madly in love with but can't find the voice to say so) sleeps in my bed with the door closed.
Everything about myself is suspect. There's this feeling like everything I've become has to change, needs to change. It's like I'm looking in the mirror and the reflection is shaking his head back at me in disbelief.
I still try too hard.
I still get crazy with the things I don't know.
I still need to feel the rush of life against my skin.
I still live for your approval.
I still want you.
But because of what I am, because of what I've done, there are no words. Our movie has gone silent. There are things you say you can't hear right now. Things I feel I can't say. And yet there are frustrated outbursts and serrated edge blades that neither of us can seem to hold back. Flashes of anger and hurt that fill the room, shattering the crystals that are only barely holding us together.
...But after almost every fight there's also cautious tender. Somehow after every spit of venom there is a quiet peace. But then there's always another argument. There's always something that reminds. There's always more hurt.
It's a lot like things used to be.
It's a lot like things have been for a long while.