2009-10-11
underneath my skin
Dreams, I have dreams
When I'm awake, When I'm asleep
And you, you are in my Dreams
You're underneath my skin, how am I so weak
I am afraid of my own cynicism; it's the only thing I truly fear, this feeling that I will hold myself back, that I will be a little too honest, a little to sharp, a little too rough, a little to brittle.
Too much honesty, not enough truth, fearing the fear, the dark sour parts of myself that cringe and sneer and snarl and scoff. I am afraid of secretly coveting reasons not to delve into you.
But fear breeds the thing that is feared in the first place; fear is the object of the fear; it is self-defeating.
So I must face the fear. I know this part of me exists, I acknowledge it. A part of me will pick apart reasons to not make it work, citing his naivte, his agreeableness, his optimism, his infatuation. But the thing is, I'm not going to marry him, I'm just trying to experience a semi-functional relationship. And I kind of want to be the person he sees me as, anyway.
Ultimately, it's just too easy to be hard on people. It would be much better to challenge myself to go easy on people, too look at the crinkles that appear so glaring under my sharp vision, and smooth it out with compassion, patience, optimism. Give people the benefit of the doubt, stop squinting, start grinning with ease.
I do not need to be nervous, I do not need to feel threatened, I do not need to be swept off my feet. I do need someone to cradle my face, listen to my words, and see me for who I am, or at least some close approximation of whomever that person might be.
leesah-likes at 6:18 p.m.