Tuesday, January 20, 2009

i have tried to tell this story of how i float in the air and air is merely an entity i name so because that is what you would understand it as, but i cannot begin to describe it to you had it been a thing not already known because i do not experience its realness. i do address my insensitivity to asking for your ears when the surge of pregnant hormones and emotions may render you incompetent of your role as a listener, and i am not writing this so you may stumble upon it someday and feel guilty about it, because it is only chronic niceness that i hold pathologically in me that regards such insensitivity- the acceptably normal of us knows the sincere need for help no matter how petty and how inconveniently timed is never inconsiderate.

time would betray the correctness and relevance of this story if you should want to hear it now. i still need it to be heard, but perhaps i would rather carry it to meet another. i shall reassure you that there is not a tiny soreness involved- i believe the story chooses its reader as much as it has chosen the author.

one fine day i listened to someone trying to dissect the story to an audience and apart from being possessive although i know very well many others have a similar story; i feel compelled to tell this person to stop and say to all of them that it isn't something you can define or objectively describe- it can only be understood by having it happen to you. much compelling as it is, i do not wish to share myself with strangers.

it happens at every waking moment, but until there is paucity when you catch yourself in the mirror or have a silent blank in your head or suddenly rushed by unexplainable and unreasonable and irrepressible tears or sad mad laugh; you would not realize.


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