Vista

Often, in this forum, I feel so connected to the words of the writers.  A fondness for strangers because the writing is so powerful.  So true.  So brave.
You get.  You see it. You feel it. You write about it.  Fight about it.  Or against it.  Accept it.  Lean into it. Laugh about it.  Teach.  Learn.

Why is it that I feel so disconnected from my own words?  My own ability to put what is in my heart and in my soul into words for someone to understand?  Why can't, for just a few minutes, I see what you see?  Not "you" as in you exactly....because we don't know each other so well.  (Although we don't, I feel each day like you are someone I am getting to know and really like.)
But "you" as in the you that does love me, that sees me as...well, however you see me?  Those in my life that don't give up...even when I have given you ample opportunity to do so.  Those that forgive me.  Pick me up.  Wait for me to come back.  Smile through my episodes or mood swings or whatever you want to call them. Pick me up off the floor.  Wait until I can get out of bed.  Call and call even though I don't call back. You are the ones....when I can't make eye contact with my own reflection in the big mirror in my bathroom, you tell me I look good.  What?  Why are you saying that?  Jesus...this is the best I have and you and I both know that I look like a pasty clown with just a bit too much makeup on?  Let's just not talk about it, OK?

How can the disconnect be that big?  Who is the liar here?  Me?  You?  Maybe both of us a little bit?  Or one of us a whole lot?

I want to see me like you do.  It would feel so much better.  It would hurt so much less.  It would make the terrible thoughts...daytime and nighttime...lessen.  Just for a few minutes.  See me like you do.  When I am being kind, you see it for that.  I see it as a cover up so you don't figure out who I really am.  When I make fun of me before you can...it is much safer that way.  When I can change the subject to something...anything...other than who I am, what I have done and why I have done it.  Can you believe this weather?  What did you think of the debate?  I love you boots. 


Thank God for elections and baseball.  Let's talk about that.