Saturday, August 25, 2012

The camouflage


Dear Me,

This is not it. Things are yet to happen.

This is not all that you are. It’s just that you have had too much of people. Of course they’ll push and bully around and barge into your privacy and play with your identity and talk you into leaving what you love and trick you into walking their walk without letting you know that the truth isn’t that they’re walking with you but that you are walking with them, until you start seeing each of them nibbling big chunks of you they’ve made you cut yourself into.

That’s their job; they take in individuals, one at a time and make them a part of people. Come on, that is what they do. Didn’t you know that already?

But I’ll tell you a secret, what they don’t know is they’re only adding layers around you. The good news is you’re still there inside. Safe. And you’re still you, in there. And I’m on way to rescue you. 

Friday, August 17, 2012

How old is your silence?



And once again, we curse the big bad world. And once again, we cheer at our union. Once again, we keep talking about everything (or so it seems).

And just as it is, our voices will keep sloping up and down as we narrate the graph of our lives. And we’ll find we have identical boxes in our graphs. And we’ll pretend we’re close.

It is when we retire to our non-composed selves, when I fill another page of the diary that I spill out my true blood; it is when you text somebody else that you finally say an important something else.  That we realize all our empty talk is just an exaggeration of our silence. That the defining lines that run through those boxes remain to be our tactical secrets.