Love and Terror

Why is letting people love you sometimes the hardest thing in the world to do?

I don't know, but the answer is tangled in the web that makes you love people who don't in fact love you the way you are.  You're just a piece of work waiting to be altered. 

Men seem to like the wild in me, but as soon as I commit to them, they start trying to tame it.  It doesn't end well, and I mean for me, either.  They find someone else, and I find my self-esteem around my ankles.   

'It's like The Taming of the Shrew,' a friend suggested.  Gee THANKS.  Because who doesn't love being called a nasty little rodent?  (Seriously, isn't that what a shrew is?)

Okay, COMPUTER!  We're not even a minute away from that Star Trek model where you just say Computer!  And it pulls out the answer.  Right now I have to get on a new tab and google shrew.  SIGH.

It's terrifying how fast we get used to convenience.

So yeah, a shrew has 'heavy dentition' -- meaning serious fangs.  More like tusks.  Tame THAT mothafucka!

Does this mean I have an 'attitude' problem?  I don't feel like I do...I mostly feel like I'm always on the verge of apology.  Though the last time a man wrote to me 'I can't get you out of my mind' I wrote, 'Try.'  He said, 'That worked.'  I instantly apologized, but I could NOT resist the joke!  Is that it means to try to be a comedian?  To just blurt shit out (always asking forgiveness, never permission)? -- yup.  Pretty sure that's it.

Apparently it also means being a huge potty-mouth.  No problem there!  Especially after I saw that much re-shared post about people who swear being more intelligent (of course, there's a limit; if you put fuckin between every other word, you're just a fuckin moron).

Huh?  What do you mean, off-topic?  

Am reading this book, He's Scared/She's Scared, and I can't help but think, Jesus Christ, shouldn't we be??

Given what I know, consider me terrified!

Heartbreak, now that is truly frightening -- when you actually feel a fissure beneath your sternum and between your ribs -- I push my fingers into it, and it's like there's this ragged hole where I need my soul to be.  I let my soul go too easily. 

But what's the point, if you don't?  It's a conundrum. It's a koan.  It's the narrative we have to live in order to find out who we love, who to love, and, I hope, how to do it better.  Animals, friends, family, lovers, the Dalai Lama, and every sentient being in anguish and need.

(Wait, this was supposed to be about intimacy...)

I crave it, but if it's given too easily, I am suspicious. I become wary caustic girl.  Those are my super-heroine powers!)  

Has anyone yet realized that oh is the opposite of ho??

Yes I think I am the first!

(See, start talking about intimacy and I'm about to turn this machine off and go read my new book, I Love Dick.  F'real).

HA!

Over and out.