I no longer wish to be addicted to you.

Posted: October 27, 2010 in transliteration
Tags: , , , ,

Since you first showed up in my daddy’s office in the mid nineties, I have had problems turning away. A hedgehog kept me company then, and a pedophile shook me to tears with the emptiness of suicide. I found friendship in dusty corners of unused minds, and my eyes have grown heavy, aching and unable to focus.

The expanse has ebbed and flowed over the years taking me in any direction I’ve fancied, and while a heavy hand and merciless stance has proven futile in dismissing what has become my only stable companion…it’s time to coax this unhealthy relationship to more productive ends.

Yes.

I miss you.
I hope you’re happy; happier again.
I miss you.
It feels strange to be back.

I sit with a bird for several hours each day. My housemates can hear me stutter and stumble as I read to her.

I always hated reading aloud. I have this speech…deficiency. I have an unnatural aversion to placing thoughts into words, and yet I write constantly. When I was younger, I had the idea that I lacked confidence with this everyday task, talking, because my vocabulary proved so limiting. If you’ve ever been in a conversation with an asshole that likes to throw in elaborations for no reason aside from haughtiness, you know the feeling of inadequacy I’m alluding to…but I have this feeling all of the time. Even now. And while I don’t flaunt it, my comprehension has vastly improved since those earlier days. No, that is no longer the problem.

Now I find language a burden for contradictory reasons. There are too many words, and I can only use a few…because others have told me that I have inflicted them with the same confused misery I once felt when I utilize a richer vocabulary, and I strongly assert that this is not language’s intended purpose. Economy, then, becomes stilted for the sake of clarity…but all of these words exist for the sake of a clarity that does not come.

I will never understand.
I simply do not connect.

At one time, I sat in my favorite teacher’s classroom, and he called upon me to define various terms that my peers had not bothered to learn. I was treated as the class dictionary. He would throw out a term and then seek my definitions. I think it was quite evident that I knew what the words meant, but I struggled greatly to break them apart into other words. I did not memorize dictionary definitions or read straight from the text books to answer questions. This teacher either appreciated that I tried to use my gummed up brain, or merely found it entertaining to prod at my somewhat embarrassing idiosyncracies.

I spent so much time building these terms into their own meanings with unique nuances and connotations, until I truly felt like I understood them as their own words, that deconstructing them back down into their fundamentals was difficult…sometimes impossible. I have this same problem with foreign languages. I pick them up quickly, understand them relatively easily, but translating them to and from my native tongue? No. Defining them from one another? No. Defining anything at all?

I can’t.

When asked to explain anything I stumble and stutter and make odd hand motions that people often mimic derisively. I am an awkward human being, and I struggle where most do not, but inside…in here…in my head where I belong, things connect and make sense sometimes.

I wish you would have stayed with me…or let me stay with you. I wanted so much for there to be…a connection; any weak line through to the world outside of myself at all…but you just kept pushing me back
and back
and back
inside my head.

No, no, no. You angrily reaffirmed and shut me out. I had it all wrong. It’s all wrong. I’ve got it all wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Closed me in. So, here I sit again…by myself.

I’m not even allowed to know what love is.

I look around the reflexivity of this shell, and I think thoughts that aren’t assigned words, and I come here to put something down…

but the only reason to ever put it down was in an attempt to push it out into something else…somewhere else…as someone else, where I don’t belong.

I’m not trapped here.
No.
I look around.

I do know what love is.

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