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Wandering in the Mental Lagoon -- Flash Fiction
Somewhere Between Unrequited and Accepted
I may have chronic cold feet, I'm not wholeheartedly sure what makes me stall in love. It's been too quiet this time. My imagination is left too far to wonder. It seems like after spending seven months consistently together, that a weekend with no text messages must mean something. Where did you go? Who are you with? Is it fair for me to be upset that I don't know where you are; will I have to probe you to get those answers? Maybe when the weekend ends you'll offer this information to me naturally. Maybe you're punishing me because we haven't gone official yet, which gives wiggle room. A lot of wiggle room from being non-exclusive.
I can't decide if I'm wanting to be exclusive with you because I genuinely want to be with you, or if I only want to build sturdier walls to keep you from seeing others. And only because deep down I'm selfish. A selfish pig, really.
I've wanted to see you for days, but with schedules and everything else, it just hasn't added up evenly. You both remind me of my past and also of something new, something promising. I don't know how much longer I can wander in this lagoon, counting my indecision, and forgetting to pray. Maybe this loose leash I have on this romance says something about my religious views. If you put a tighter leash on God, that doesn't make him howl, right?
I'm not sure there's anymore validity between me and the heavens depending on anything I do, whether it's: wailing on the floor, praying quietly, singing praises, or apathetically binge watching television. I think the only answer is having peace with yourself and practicing a daily calm. I've grown to believe more in mental readiness than my exclamations to be in the fold of God's ears.
Templates of Love, Are they all... Red?
Love doesn't seem to be this passionate portrait of red. I'm finding as I age love makes more sense by being practical. By looking at it from a blueprint perspective and seeing where the design will fail:
"This man is too far away, and there is no possibility of it going long distance. He is too involved with himself."
"I do sense chemistry with this one, but he attracts a strange, negative culture to him. I would have to take on that culture if I got close to him."
"This one is too afraid to speak up and will leave me baffled and in the dark."
"This one has been around the block too many times, and can't see out of his past, much less be able to procure a future."
I shouldn't allow myself to say "no" simply because I can find a reason to say such things.
I think somehow you have to censor this part of yourself. You have to look straight in the eyes of your reason and recognize it is blinding you. That the world isn't only made of reasonable and smooth answers.
Granted, when I make a move on someone it is smooth and subtle. Anytime I've ever made a bold move, I ended up freezing in the middle of the conversation and going into an introspective spiral. Then that stinging question comes up, "Why am I making such a strong move? I must be desperate. He should be making a clear and advanced enough move himself. It's very odd for a woman to make the first move; we're prone to a slower physiology. I mean, women do it. They do it all the time. Why does it seem odd to me?"
I don't know how to let you in while simultaneously still being myself. How do you let someone know you when that person being in a relationship with you changes you?
The Belly of the Lagoon
I'm letting too much turbulence guide me. I'd prefer to be the calm within the storm. I'd prefer to let things go, to trust that I won't be in the dark like last time. That I found someone void of abuse, void of negligence, and void of misogyny. You seem charmed by me, but I wish I could find your charm bracelet and see for myself how many others are charming you presently. Is it 15? Is it 23? Or is it amazingly actually and devotedly... one? Is that even possible? I'm not sure that's possible. How can that be possible? Please, help me. I'm too inquisitive. I need someone who is less inquisitive than me. Someone who doesn't get so rattled in an occasional silence.
You seem loyal. I think you could be capable of great loyalty. Maybe the greatest sense of loyalty I have ever known. But what if I'm wrong and you are just a mastermind. A great sorcerer who can put on masks -- so as to please your victims? I've gotten so deep into this lagoon. I'm starting to think it's actually sinking sand.
A lagoon feels like it's in the middle of nowhere. Void of any castle or town. The smells are intoxicating from the flowers, the mosquitoes and their diseases are everywhere. The further you travel into the lagoon the more you start to question what is the beast who lives there, and you start to fully expect that the creature will show its head. What is the guardian of this lagoon? It could be mastered by god himself or maybe a township for the devil. It's hard to say. But I don't find that a lagoon is owned by anything spiritual, this could be my slight of hand.
It feels like it belongs to a monster. Something that shapeshifted from the bottom of the lagoon, cell by cell into a complex, sophisticated, and lonely beast with three heads, a long fish like body, and horns coming from every side. It's hard to know whether it swims or flies. It's hard to know whether it speaks or is silent -- or if it also knows human language. But the more you are in its space, the more you know it definitely exists. I presume it would be dangerous to bother the lagoon's beast. It could eat you whole, spit you out into a pile of bones, or it could attempt to mentor you -- and what kind of mentor is a monster?
In this silence, in this weekend where I'm not sure where you have gone... I have gone to my familiar lagoon beast.
I'm visiting the giant flying fish that comforts me with its dizzying questions. Between my love interest and me is this entire landscape and a leviathan. I go sit upon the highest flower, with outstretched petals and drink tea with what I know to be far more real, far more submissive than I can fully handle or put into words. I have conversations with a fish monster raising questions in my mind.
The lagoon is cold, and I never seem to have enough clothes to protect me. One day you may find me at home mysteriously dead of hypothermia.
I'll do what I can to change this love sanctuary of mine. I don't think it bodes well for you or myself. I think I should strive to break up with the lagoon and find a way to the castle, to sturdier ground, where I can accept who you are with more ease and know -- if things do crumble, I have the king and all his white horses to make sure that there is justice for your betrayal.
Maybe even the king's counselor can help me to stop expecting betrayal.
I have to stop expecting betrayal.