Pretending Shadows
Page 42
If she stops by and lets out the ever so miniscule sonic boom that says “I need you to spend time with me” as if it was something we did on some type of scheduled basis, then it is time to sit, breath, and think about the farthest thing from what the comment has even the slightest relationship to.
Rather humorous, the brain. Loki unleashed and set to mischief. Maker up of things that might be, could be, and in some cases, probably should be, but just ain’t happnin’. This, at an apex of interpretation, is something that I see in the shadows of the visitor and myself, that is different from what she sees in the very same shadow.
We are both looking at the same thing, but I see the Shetland pony and she sees the Clydesdale. It clashes as the analysis transforms, and two versions of the same thing are two versions of two separate sides of an equilateral triangle. The third side is somewhere else and nobody recognizes it.
I think my body doesn’t want this. By it’s reaction and response, in fact, I am pretty damn convinced it is in a state of rebellion. Too long on the mono platonic verge of even a shadow of this one tells me with as clear a voice as can be vocalized; this shadow is not the one you perceive it is. Tell her that.
I want to accelerate, the walk being less brisk than is necessary. If I can stay one step ahead of the light that allows the shadow to be there in the first place, then I can hide and not expose any emotion at all, using whatever is there as an excuse to pretend. I’m good at that.
Walls are built for protection, or to allow ivy to grow on. I have some of them and I let the ivy grow when I can but the protection ones are rather difficult to scale. A few have made it past, but it hasn’t been a recent occurrence, so I don’t make the barriers impassable. I just load them with things like moats and dragon’s teeth so entry becomes a pain to those not dedicated to getting past them through to those shadowy parts of my inside heart.
Depending on where my heart is perched in this castle, constructions of new drawbridges can happen quickly, even if the bottom of the new channel it has to cross is littered with the bones of dead fish and very dry rocks.
I see an obvious hint here. Am I the only one? Months ago? Weeks ago? Last year? Hello oh great one with impaired emotional vision. Do you see? My parts aren’t working. The machine that runs them uses a different power source than the one you keep bringing and trying to use to start what just won’t start. Nice chassis, smooth propulsion device, slick tranny but not even close to the right gear ratio.
A jumble of emotion coming from a source outside of my control cannot be stemmed. Here, let me tell you how to feel. Yeah, right! People emotionalize, and if they don’t have control over it, then I’m damned sure I don’t. Not theirs, anyway. Can’t tell your heart what path to follow? So? Neither can I. Just know that the trek to me is not the simplistic path unless I want it to be. And that, petite aimee, is not yours to tread over or make a determination on.
Can I even begin to figure out what makes me decide how thick the base of the stone wall has to be before I make it so tall even Sherpas need oxygen? No, or maybe. The calculation could be as unpredictable as the feelings discovered in the shadow of a kiss.
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