a huge clap of thunder overhead woke me. i think i was dreaming all along. the irony of thunder is a thing i could describe, but will not.
surely there is something very wrong with me. it is the only determination i can reach, as the entire world seems to find the things i find reasonable, normal, or relevant to be unreasonable, abnormal, and irrelevant.
asking openness where only behind-the-bush whispers are condoned, i am asked in turn to justify the thought that anyone but a life partner has ground from which to expect openness, belonging, and the simple respect of not having to hide in the bushes.
asking freedom where only muttering fear and rocking and backwards walking exist, i am told in turn, yet again, that i am too frightening to be fully accepted. only my little pinky may know the warmth of embrace… and only then when it is not threatening to the running of the well-worn path around the bush.
asking too much, i am told. over and over again. but i ask so little.
what do you do when asking so little is asking too much, except accept?
so here i sit, 2:25am, pondering all the ways in which my square-pegness sighs at the world.
sat here ten minutes just looking at this… trying not to cry.
looks like i fail. again.
as usual?
yes.