Musings

It's nearly 2 in the morning. I am wide awake. My brain is hyperactive rather than resting. Thoughts are a jumble, a confusing tornado that rushes through me. Sleep is like a tempermental friend, sometimes too clingy, other times illusive. Usually clingy though. This night finds me in an unusual state. And in other ways, a state that I have been in since you called the last time.

Little reminders that ought not to be reminders at all.

Songs that reflect my feelings on exactness. In the choir concert tonight, we performed one. It is a beautiful piece. The words, "How can I hold onto my soul so that it does not touch yours?" reflect the fear that is paired with attachment. Next, "everything that touches us, you an me, together. Like a single bow drawing out from two strings but one voice" emphasize the way we are the same. But, the fear is not conquered by this. " I'd tuck it away" I wish I could tuck my affetion for you away, become indifferent.

Maybe then we could truely be friends.

But right now, I am to afraid of more pain. Even such a small connection can break. Even such a small break can cause terrible pain. I turn away from you, and yet am drawn to you. You've pushed me away, gently as you could, but with a harsh honesty. Yet, I hover, orbit, and seek you out. I see you when I get the chance, even though there is enevitably the agony of a reminder of what could of been but that isn't, and presumably will never be.

I sang that song for you, knowing you could not know. There's a chance you might have heard, waiting backstage. False hope that you could have heard and listened. Hope that you felt it. Banishing you from my mind so that I could more properly sing was hard, but I could not accept the tightness in my throat. Still, I sang for you, even if by doing so made it more difficult than ever.

I saw you afterwards, in the gallery. Without meaning to, I found you in the crowd. Turning away, I found the friend I had been scanning for, but less happily for the sight. So near but unreachable. We shared a wave. A meaningless wave, really. What does a wave mean anyway? If it means goodbye, you already said that. If it means hello, I have tried to say that to no avail.

The easy flow of discourse has been stopped as if by a government funded dam the public wishes gone, and the blockage is similairly insurmountable. Yet, I will continue to sing for you. Maybe that is the only form of communication I will ever have with you. It's not enough, but it's there. Because, I cannot hold on to my soul. It reaches out for you at every turn, at every breath.

Perhaps, when I waved back, I meant I haven't given up. I don't know why.