In the Air, On the Ground

I am in limbo at this very moment. There are all these balls in the air and they have no sense of time; shifting a little or a lot, but I never know when or how much, and never at once with some recognition of fluidity or relationship to each other. No gravity, no direction; I'm just waiting underneath for them to fall.

I'll throw them back up again. I mean, it seems the most logical thing to do, really. Keep them up and away from me. In many ways they are identical, so what would happen if I just dropped one. Any one. Anyone.

I got what I wanted last night; despite our conversation earlier, I got what I wanted. It was not what I had planned, and it was certainly unexpected. I tossed that ball high into the air again and am waiting to see what happens next. B wanted it to be good, wanted me to be happy and this is really why I love him so much. Despite everything that was said, everything he has felt, he really thinks that, at some level, this is his fault. And it's not. But he's still here, you know? That is, in essence, what binds us so tightly. Our ability to ignore problems for the sake of being together.

I am never really sure what he means. He says one thing and then somehow, the end result is so divergent. I feel like I am being so obtuse, and I am really. I think that if I hide behind big words, metaphors, and abstract phrases, that someone will know what I am talking about without me having to say it. But no one will know, because they are just shadows, echoes. There's no substance. You have no idea what I am talking about and I am too ashamed to spell it out.

I never really realized how large of a role that shame played until this very moment, complicating matters and building higher walls. It really is shame and I'm not good at shame.