One part of our discourse was about my writing. The sad sorry spew that it has become evidently wasn't resonating at it should. Not enough of me and my feelings was the central theme confounding the conversation.
Most who read and know me abrade my sensitivity and self-centeredness. I am, after all, quite kwown for being "emo". But this rough handling from a friend focused on how I was not "vulnerable". Of course, I wasn't acting vulnerable, I'm feeling exposed and beat down! When you feel like you are taking blows, it is only natural to protect yourself, so naturally I was acting numb.
In the end, I know the spirit and it was good. It just wasn't the support that I needed. (How's that vulnerability?)
To redeem myself, I've chosen to share a particular piece I wrote some time ago (which could be 5 minutes or 5 months, you'll never know). It's short but then again, my writing sucks.
Just to show I'm fully embracing this vulnerability crap, I'll include a short story I wrote for someone else in my next post.
I must be doing something right.
Yesterday she asked me yet again if I thought I over think things. So clearly she is learning that I can't just make it stop. That my biggest relief comes with someone I don't have to analyze. For whom there is no inner translation. Someone I take at face value and trust.
Too bad she doesn't want enough to be that person.
We're all surrounded by people. Some evil some saintly, most merely interesting. I find her saintly, evil, and interesting. So she sees my masks and peels them off. If only hers was so unbound.
This writing vulnerability might not be good or even interesting, but that's the last time I entertain complaints of such a nature. They hurt my feelings.