All_Erased

Reconstruction
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2009-04-11 02:02:31 (UTC)

Counting Nonsense

Talking helps. Writing does, too. I come here to clear my mind.

Allow me to share the nonsense that's been exciting me lately. The inner
squeals of joy permit no space for work, I have to get rid of them.

The reasons I seethe:

An unexpected display of kindness from a stranger penetrates my defenses.
It has not been the first attempt. For the first time I am solicited, inquired
over my day. What otherwise convinces me of this is the misunderstanding
between us that ensues. Because I did not think he was talking to me, I chose
to ignore him. I had to reinitiate contact through a farewell.

Attention is also normally never my own, attention from the eyes of a man.
Paranoia overtakes me whenever our eyes meet, they feel heavy against mine.
Attentive. I grow afraid, insecure. I look down, away.

It is never when I want to see him, but when I least expect to that I find him.
Somehow. An emotional turn one day leads me away from the company of
friends, seemingly away from a planned adventure involving presence,
encounters with 'strangers'. Ironically, we bump into each other on the way
home.

Dinner time, I believe to have escaped him. I head in an opposite direction,
make temporary refuge of a table and settle down to work. Minutes later we
are within close proximity. The encounter is inevitable. I barely survive half an
hour before taking my departure. There are no farewells.

On this day I am certain I would not have to worry about seeing him. But there
he is, unfailingly, a short distance away, attending the same meeting as I.
Pretend becomes the game where I am only aware of one side of the room.
Shortly after eating I make my run for it.

Tonight, intuition caresses me in more ways than one. Serves me in more
ways than one. My first trip down to the laundry room I am already, suddenly
dreading an encounter. Voices warn me that delaying will not prevent a
chance encounter (assuming he was already there), but may in fact cause it. I
take care of my washing loads and promptly leave. Half an hour later, the
matter forgotten, I head back down, all the while thinking about a friend. A
legitimate friend. To my surprise, I find her at the laundry room. We relax and
have a talk, and I neglect my laundry a little while more. In walks the man. His
laundry was not too far off from completing their washing cycle. He had
indeed come in after me. We indeed did eventually come to stand in the same
room at the same time, tonight. Indeed, the voices in my head were right on.

Simply nonsense.


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