Rhetoric I

Often I wonder if all I have to do is try harder. Often I wonder if all I have to do is pick up the phone or maybe, even just drive over and grab her out. Sometimes, I ask myself, “Do I just have to say it?” or is that simply not enough and I actually have to go and just sweep her off the ground?

Most of yesterday, I thought about stuff. It is correct what I thought. I knew the answers of course. However, I already think about what I can do to help myself. Am I doing it? I am, which is an oddity because it is out of my norm. Though, I did forget to continue it yesterday. So I have to do it today.

I know if I don’t try, I will continue to regret, but at the same time, I fear of being discovered, discovered that I am less than what I was, becoming what I am. I fear that she would discover me as just a wretched human being that seek something that other humans want.

My friends may not know this, but my mom does. When I want to express desire and refuge, instead, I express equanimity and indifference. I did not have a bad childhood, but since my childhood, I have been conditioned to keep my cool and be self-reliant. The problem is that almost all of my emotions, mainly the more negative ones become bottled up, filtered, divided up and re-organized in my psyche. Over time, as I age, in the uncommon scenarios I indulge in wine and other liquor, I find those sealed wounds swell up as if they were recently slashed at. Therefore, I mainly drink alone at home, away from those that can see me from the inside out.

This early Autumn gave way some of that bottled up emotion. It was terrible at best. Waterfalls of tears poured out of my eyes, as I sat at a bar amongst some friends, trying to drink to my heart’s desire. It was embarrassing because I realized two things that night.

1) People protect themselves for the sake of keeping face

and

2) Honesty does not always mean a good person. Honesty basically means that a person is able to express him or herself more openly.

In my equanimity, I am almost dishonest with myself. So when I see my friends, I turn on the ‘goofball’ switch for two reasons.

1) To add fluff to the group

and

2) To open up a facet of my psyche, where I can vent a bit of myself without revealing other parts of my mind.

This may seem strange, but I have a question and it is constantly answered. I automatically always have a question in my head that is automatically always answered. I always ask it, even though it already has an answer.

You’re right Michelle, you’re right, but I’m not going to admit it. I already know what you’re going to say based on what you have already said and I accept it, but I am not going to admit. I won’t deny it. I just won’t admit it. I can’t because I choose not to, because I am a slave to my psyche. I put these bonds on myself, locking myself down, unwilling to move. I accept it, but I won’t admit it. I won’t even say it, but I accept it and I want to change it. No, wait. I want someone else to change it for me. Okay, I admitted a part of it. I want someone to change some of it for me. I am not going to say any more or you’re going to laugh at me. You won’t laugh to belittle me. You will laugh because I am foolish and because I know and accept that I am foolish.

I am hard on others, just as I am ‘hard’ on myself, but I don’t consider it hard. I consider it as logical and reasonable. Other people may require some pillow stuffing and cotton candy to soften the words, but I don’t like to be that soft. I have since my childhood, been self-reliant on my own happiness, until I was old enough to experience the emotional and physical comfort of a female, who willingly gave herself to me. At those times, I feel elated and comfortable, but at the same time, I was aware I am surrendering myself to that elation and comfort and that counters my upbringing. I feel ‘at home’ when I am by myself, riding those long distances on my bike, resting at the turn-around point, looking across the horizon, thinking about my travels, no matter how limited that reach was. I feel elated and comfortable when I am with my friends, but that reliance counters my upbringing.

In my visions, my friends, my family are all huddled together in a derelict building. I smile at each of them and sneak out when everyone is sleeping. The rest of the vision is left for another time, in person. There are far too many people with over-simplified mentalities. Why do I care what they think of me, a stranger? The question would better be asked, “Why do I care if I share my treasure with strangers?”

The question always has the answer. I ask the questions and I always have the answers. The answers are always correct, but I still ask the questions because I want to change, yet I am unwilling to change that much. Therefore, I want someone else to change a part of it for me. That’s all I am going to say.

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