01 March 2006

Charades..

Its all a game isn’t it? Gestures, arms flailing, mouth agape speaking silent words – eyes popping and faces contorted trying to get across some as yet known word, phrase or emotion to those watching with bemused ignorance.

Behind the cards, the boards, the bit pieces and paraphernalia.. behind the game, behind it all lies some sort of reality, where lines are muted and lives are blurred, heaped into some semblance of form and expression.. standing some pliable pillar as an effigy of hope. Mutated from past pains and disappointments, mixed in with present failures, sorrows and tears.. combined, at once, into a game observed by spectators who do not understand as they try to decipher what it is you truly mean. All for? Understanding? Empathy? Hope? No. All for nothing.

As when it comes down to it we are all truly alone. We – are all we truly have. Yes, we have friends, companions, lovers, spouses.. but in the end alone is what we are.. and what we shall be. Why is it that we reach out so desperately for others, be it for companionship, friendship, love, fucking, whatever.. we reach for understanding, for another being to come alongside and ‘get’ who we are, and ‘love’ who we are. To join up with us standing united, united in our stand – us against the world – complete.

But even finding that – we are alone.. in moments of solitude, misunderstood no matter how hard they try; misunderstood as no one can climb inside our brains or hearts and truly understand with clarity and foresight, with the depth needed and truly know who we are. I doubt even our own ability to accomplish this and if this is true, then what truly do we have?

The Christian answer? Jesus. And yes, I know we do – I know I do. But we’re talking the tangibility of flesh here, not the essence of Deity. He is here, this is known. Sometimes, even in the thralls of my Christian experience (read emotional) when I felt the most “touched” by the Lord I was lonelier than I had ever been before. This never left. I was comforted in the knowledge of what I had, I was comforted in the knowledge of what I was – but none of that alleviated the fact that I knew no one really knew me or understood those things I tired to speak to them, weather verbal or otherwise. I am, and always have been alone.

Until.. until one – him -- my game player. The spectator who knew my words, phrases and emotions even before I would start to portray them.. and even then I was still alone.. This is intriguing to me; an enigma within the psychology of me. Will I ever let another in, or see, or know to understand?

Shall it always be like this? Picking them up & dropping them off, discontent with who they are and what they offer as none will ever truly know (dare I say be allowed?) or understand me.. The gathering is what I call it; only to find that I am only ever truly content with me – and even that is middling.

So here I am, tracing circles with my letters, holding on to the comfort of words when the comfort of emotions simply will not due.. investing in solitude rather than embracing what is offered on the outside.. as its more painful than what I find here, inside.. alone..

That truly is the answer isn’t it? I prefer the solitude held in their lack of knowledge/understanding of me over the thing I say I ‘truly’ want.. I prefer me. I wonder if I can be truly content with this, or if it is something I tell myself I need to do -- playing charades.. holding my cards.. hiding my face.. protecting my heart.. it is all really just a game, isn’t it?

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