I have a dear friend that I love. I know I love, but I wonder... I wonder how much my affection is mixed up with a certain kind of uncomfortable familiarity that reminds me of my father, a certain sort of chaotic energy that I 'get', not because I like it, but because I know it and have accommodated it in order to accommodate a relationship that I couldn't bear otherwise?
I wonder about the foundation of my affection, and that makes me kind of sad, to question the nature of the friendship. There is lots of love. But also confusion and chaos and discomfort. And I hope, hope, hope that I am not ignoring something important about myself to enjoy this friendship, discounting something integral about me to make room for it. And that I'm strong and emotionally healthy enough to know the difference, to appreciate what I can, and step away from what I should.
I worry that I get mixed up with the people I love the most. That my porous boundaries will betray me in some way that ultimately destroys everything I've worked for, that on some level my coolness is masking a desperation to connect that I have never admitted to myself, and so I am always just one move away from the destruction of everything I've worked for.
I've constructed a life of clarity and integrity and insight and calm, but I always wonder if, just underneath all of that, is my complete undoing at falling utterly and ridiculously in love. I've avoided the temptation, skipped past the danger, zoomed around the edges but with sufficient distance to feel safe.
But I'm not sure how long I will be able to hold on to so much measured interaction, such detached observance, such nonchalance before I succumb to something else.
I wonder about the foundation of my affection, and that makes me kind of sad, to question the nature of the friendship. There is lots of love. But also confusion and chaos and discomfort. And I hope, hope, hope that I am not ignoring something important about myself to enjoy this friendship, discounting something integral about me to make room for it. And that I'm strong and emotionally healthy enough to know the difference, to appreciate what I can, and step away from what I should.
I worry that I get mixed up with the people I love the most. That my porous boundaries will betray me in some way that ultimately destroys everything I've worked for, that on some level my coolness is masking a desperation to connect that I have never admitted to myself, and so I am always just one move away from the destruction of everything I've worked for.
I've constructed a life of clarity and integrity and insight and calm, but I always wonder if, just underneath all of that, is my complete undoing at falling utterly and ridiculously in love. I've avoided the temptation, skipped past the danger, zoomed around the edges but with sufficient distance to feel safe.
But I'm not sure how long I will be able to hold on to so much measured interaction, such detached observance, such nonchalance before I succumb to something else.
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