December 20, 2001
Alice Wonders Land
I feel like I spend so much of my life wincing, or waiting.
I wonder if I will ever be happy, if my mind will ever allow it.
I wonder what Ryan will do when he sees me tomorrow. I wonder what if I will do something besides what I expect I will do (cry, as per usual).
Is all my life to be a period of blackness followed by light which my pessimism dismisses as mere grey?
I look down at my unfortunate hands and long to pull the creativity from my fingertips, to push into a pen all the thoughts that escape the page. Will I ever be a writer?
Am I satisfied with what I have? Or am I too scared to let it go?
I think I want to marry Ryan. A moment later I think he is not good enough for me, he does not care about me, he could not possibly. I think, is he what I want? Or am I just kidding myself?
Sometimes I am not sure. I think of his callusness, of his easy dismissal of my pain (however irrational). I think I want him to want me, to pine for me and lust after me, and yet I know that even if he does, I would never percieve it. That he does not hide it from me but merely shows it to no one. There have been times I have seen into his soul. They are few.
I think, does he want to see into mine?
Sometimes I am sure. I think of the two of us wrestling, despite environs, him tickling me and me fending off his arms, and then finally, he wins and has his arms wrapped just tight enough about me, his hands linked, and he kisses my hair and laughs, and looses me enough so that he can turn me to face him. And he is smiling, and I am sure I cannot deceive myself by his face, and I wonder is it distance causes me to muddle that memory? Distance that misconstrues the adoration in his eyes, the way he seems to drink me when I am before his gaze?
He does not always look at me like that.
Will I feel better if he does?
astera at 15 hours