20150302

There is a feeling of becoming obligated, of being expected to be there for another person, maybe it is the elimination of conceptual freedom of disappointment becoming attached like a dog’s set of eyes 

always off at some distance tagging along around street corners or in the next aisle of the library squatting there, watching.  

Sometimes the idea of forging a connection with another human can feel like that to me, I would rather sever that gaze as if the idea that the other needs something that I will never be able or really want to be erodes rather than enhances the being I am meant to or desire to become.  

Some nights I fear that another may bring expectations of who I can never be, to hear a compliment from her lips becomes like an anchor.  As if to say what you feel that I am, I do not know if I am or could be that so why don’t you just go on your way to find someone else.

I think I need to spend time with this page, typing some book or poem rooted in head.  I think I need to not see you looking at me when I wake up in the morning.  I want that nudity of absence to get up when I need to or desire without confrontation of how the sounds or appearance of my physical shell interact with an observer.  I do not want that canine in the room, in the corner representing my concern that I have to be this additive version adapted to the alone that I have known most.