Thursday, 18 June 2009

• we do not tender our hearts for disappointment

    Sometimes a few more things, presented in a certain way, do break the camel's back. It is at these moments that you realize that you're a camel. Ah well, at least you can spit far.

    First it was a letter which was a note signed incomplete. With a pseudonym, no less.

    Then the friend who neglected to call at 1:30 and was too distracted to sense need at 7 PM.

    The meeting which culminated in lugging home a heavy box up 6 flights of stairs.

    The meeting having ended late. The feeling of hunger undermining one's ability to be cheerful.

    The roommate who opted for shopping instead of swimming.

    The call that asked for a camera, out of the blue.

    The doggone sense of responsibility.

    What frustrates one is whether one is entitled to a little anger. My teacher had said that anger stems from want. If I did not want anything, I would not feel anger.

    Should I cure myself and just walk away, detaching all affections? Is it possible not to care? I wish so.

    Can I please tell you to stop being so flippant? To not fray the already fragile sense of trust?

    Can you realize that it matters? That I'll walk away to avoid being hurt? That I'll keep looking back to see if it bothers you? And I'll sink if you don't come for me?

    It is a silly thing to care so much. I need to go get dinner. Perhaps, then, I'll swallow my self-pity and forget. Perhaps, then, I'll have the courage to tell you the truth.

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