this primate is wondering. it is not god, or is it?
last night in a midnight fury i wrote it. i wrote that there is really not much more to say. i had been warned of this, and i have long looked for it. it happened today. finally i figured out that one piece of the puzzle that had me wondering. finally! it is good to feel freedom again.
how many years has it been? i forget, but it is something like twenty years that we have known each other. i do not remember that far back do i?
no. yes. maybe. i lied to you. i have regretted that decision that i made long ago. i also remember years later visiting you and your new found life, and then walking across a park in paris in tears. like i could not forget the sculptor's atelier, i could not forget those tears and what moved me then.
i have walked the strangest places in tears, and my tears turn to joy in me. tears are warm and moist. sadness was when i could not shed any tears and for years my eyes remained dry.
when i allow myself to feel all the emotion, then i feel the regret. all the emotion is just information, it is nothing much too important. emotion is information and it is energy. it is the kind of energy that i thrive on. i did not want to feel the regret, today i allowed myself to feel the regret.
intimacy is a precious gift, and is one that we have shared for many years. i have experienced it rather intensely. i do experience it with not just one person. the one special person has no place in my life. you know this well, and you have known it all along, for all those years. you have seen the comings and goings in my life, the valleys and the peaks, the glory and the defeat. i have cried on your shoulder, and you have cried on mine. we have laughed and gone to the comédie française, and somehow i have managed to skip the opera with you. you are mourning, and i mourn with you the loss of the sculptor who taught us about love.
some say that i can not love, and that i am made of stone. perhaps that is true, this is nothing that i would know. perhaps i am made of stone, and this stone can feel. was i just another piece of stone that the sculptor shaped?
intimacy and sex are not on the same page in my book. it is normal, although it is not everybody's preference, to have sex with people with whom one shares neither emotional nor spiritual intimacy. i just wanted to make it clear that it is intimacy, not sex, that i am talking about. it is in intimacy that we grow and develop. intimacy can give us the emotional information of our plasticity. being intimate partners does involve showing one's vulnerabilities, but it also involves respect and trust. it is a line that is not always easy to navigate.
a promise is an externalisation of something that one can not find in one' self. i never make promises. i know that promises are words, and i love words and live by words. but what am i to do with a promise? what am i going to do if a promise is demanded of me and that promise involves the breach of a loyalty bond elsewhere?
what am i going to do with one who promises me this and that? this and that are just band-aids for fears. neither is the wound healed with those band-aids, nor is the one free. why would i want one who is not free to share life with me?
