ancillaryanalog
02-26-2007, 06:37 AM
I know what I'm doing.
I've studied it, haven't I? I've done the self-analysis, I've read books, articles, encyclopedia entries. I've travelled the vast reaches of cyberspace, seeking to find definitions, terminology for what I feel and why I feel it.
I understand that everything is subjective, everything is chemical, hormone, phereomone.. I have read these words. I understand that self is a combination of multiple perspectives, multiple personas. I get that I am different fundamentally acting as my mother's daughter in comparison as how I act as someone's friend, or lover, or stranger.
I understand that I am not truly in love with you because I don't really know the true you. I realize that I could be feeling this way for anyone and would imagine that this feeling is reciprocated because love is largely illusory; a mirror where one sees what one wants to see.
Your eyes do not truly flash lightening, it is the way you tilt your head so that what I see is the angle of your face, whites visible below the pupil- lids heavy under the arcs of your eyebrows. You do not judge, it is neutral- your silence... you do not think words at all when your expression is the one that I can translate into a hundred thousand different things: you are bored, you are angry, you are pleased, you are hurt. I see only what I want to see- a reflection of my own wants, and needs, and fears.
I shake, because I want to shake. I laugh out loud, hum, sing songs, skip, dance about at work like a teenager experiencing their first love because I want to do so. I cry all night long, convinced of your displeasure when really it is my own at myself. I weep, full of fear of abandonment and thinking of venomous thoughts and attach them to you- when it is only me hating me.
If I wanted... instead of a million miles above me, you could be down on the floor with me. We could cry in each other's arms, we could laugh in each other's arms. You could say "Baby, I love you." "Sugar" "Love" "My darling" "Sweetheart." Instead I struggle to push you away. Instead I dare not meet your eyes with mine.
Master, oh beloved Master- how could I be so important to you that you do this all for me? How hard it must be to be my everything- my world. My mirror reflecting everything about me... how hard it must be to stand still with a shaken woman at your feet.
I want to see you loving me, loving me intensely, loving me beyond reason, in the way you pull away just before the spell is broken and you are not my Master, but only a man, loving me, loving me intensely, loving me beyond reason. So I do.
I know what I'm doing. The miracle is... so do you.
I've studied it, haven't I? I've done the self-analysis, I've read books, articles, encyclopedia entries. I've travelled the vast reaches of cyberspace, seeking to find definitions, terminology for what I feel and why I feel it.
I understand that everything is subjective, everything is chemical, hormone, phereomone.. I have read these words. I understand that self is a combination of multiple perspectives, multiple personas. I get that I am different fundamentally acting as my mother's daughter in comparison as how I act as someone's friend, or lover, or stranger.
I understand that I am not truly in love with you because I don't really know the true you. I realize that I could be feeling this way for anyone and would imagine that this feeling is reciprocated because love is largely illusory; a mirror where one sees what one wants to see.
Your eyes do not truly flash lightening, it is the way you tilt your head so that what I see is the angle of your face, whites visible below the pupil- lids heavy under the arcs of your eyebrows. You do not judge, it is neutral- your silence... you do not think words at all when your expression is the one that I can translate into a hundred thousand different things: you are bored, you are angry, you are pleased, you are hurt. I see only what I want to see- a reflection of my own wants, and needs, and fears.
I shake, because I want to shake. I laugh out loud, hum, sing songs, skip, dance about at work like a teenager experiencing their first love because I want to do so. I cry all night long, convinced of your displeasure when really it is my own at myself. I weep, full of fear of abandonment and thinking of venomous thoughts and attach them to you- when it is only me hating me.
If I wanted... instead of a million miles above me, you could be down on the floor with me. We could cry in each other's arms, we could laugh in each other's arms. You could say "Baby, I love you." "Sugar" "Love" "My darling" "Sweetheart." Instead I struggle to push you away. Instead I dare not meet your eyes with mine.
Master, oh beloved Master- how could I be so important to you that you do this all for me? How hard it must be to be my everything- my world. My mirror reflecting everything about me... how hard it must be to stand still with a shaken woman at your feet.
I want to see you loving me, loving me intensely, loving me beyond reason, in the way you pull away just before the spell is broken and you are not my Master, but only a man, loving me, loving me intensely, loving me beyond reason. So I do.
I know what I'm doing. The miracle is... so do you.