I've known my friend for years but it's only been the last couple of months that I feel I've gotten to known him more, what's the word for it - completely? I feel like this has a lot to do with how we send each other things that we've written - poetry, stories, and free association mainly.
There's a sort of intimacy in words, in the act of writing that makes sharing and forming friendships easier. In person we hold back, we have walls that we're ready to put up when the other person comes too close; we negotiate boundaries, and offer up things about ourselves that are safe. I feel with writing, at least for myself, that I hold back much less, I lay my words out there bare and ready to be picked at, which is downright frightening. I've "told" him stories that I've only talked about a handful of times with other people - things that I laugh nervously at, fiddling with my hands, eyes cast downward at the table. These barriers are struck down in writing though, and this, I think, is why I love writing.
There are some lies we tell ourselves.... I tell myself... that I deny so completely. That I know deep down is wrong but instead I cling to them hoping that I am not the truths I actually am. I break down walls of emotion hoping for there to be some kernel of truth, of deeper meaning. But really the deeper meaning was that there was a wall there at all.
ReplyDeleteThere are lies I tell myself so that I can pretend everything is okay. There are deeper lies that I tell myself so that the lies I use to be okay are to cover up the hardships I face everyday. But really when I get down to it, there is no deeper meaning and no hardships.
We are all happy little people too self involved to see that life is really okay and things will be fine and always have been and always will be. We adjust our pain to allow ourselves to live in luxury without guilt.
Perhaps instead of being human I will be a cat. I will do as I will simply because it is what I want to do. And for no better or worse reason than that.