| | I am miserable. To those who have wagered deals to my demise, I relieve you thoroughly and care not of the satisfaction it would bring: you win. I am in misery.
No matter how you may interpret my psyche, my motivations, there's no doubt about it no matter how it's interpreted: I have a lot of responsibility. While I could name every position I hold, every body to which I am accountable for, it would have an effect no more than the shameless peacock unfurling his tail-feathers. Those who know me know how much weight I bear on my shoulders.
Yes, I understand that my misery is self-imposed -- that I have willingly put much more on my plate than I really ought to have done -- and that by bemoaning it now I come off rather...bratty for lack of a better term, but I fully accept that potential interpretation. Though it's not out of vanity or gluttony of power which so springs this fountain of dissatisfaction, but rather an impulse to give, to provide. In me, to lead, to give, is as natural as my heart beats, but it is twice as deadly and without the pumps and valves which so relieves the biological instrument in times of great burden -- emotional or physical. It invigorates me, it flows throughout me, it is my blood and my being and without it, I would be but a limp sleeve of a human being. At the same time, however, I am being crushed by its sheer magnitude. Imagine: what nourishes me, destroys me. I am disintegrating.
Never has there ever been a time in my life where I require a valve as I do now. But valves are not to be purchased; they are not to be bartered, nor are they to be improvised. Such valves, such beautiful things, are created. They are created in the maelstroms of the most hostile and most fertile soils that all of humanity has ever experienced and ever will; they are created in the darkest and brightest of human depths; they are created in the arc lamp of two sparking, brilliant souls. These valves: human love and intimacy.
It is, yes, a continent whose dark inner depths I have so rhapsodized, pastoralized, lamented, and romanticized many times before. What makes, then, this time so different then those? Have I not yet learned the lesson that it's simply an expanse I should not expect to map with these green tools and novice journeymen?
I haven't. At true heart, I am a cartographer, but that isn't the reason I've rhapsodized again. This time, I am unrequited, though not by a single being, but by love itself.
I need it more than ever, though not to fulfill any bestial passions. I need it as a valve. I need to know that I still have something left to hold onto as the weight of the world crumbles around me. I need a companion who will let me know that I'm okay when I am too delirious to see it on my own.
I need something unconditional because I've never had anything.
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| | Posted 9/13/2007 9:25 PM - 72 Views - 4 eProps - 2 comments
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