Recovered Journal Entry

The following was found as I sort through the dregs of my old hard drive.  It is from my wistful, unfulfilled past; an unsent letter to someone that apparently interested me more than the usual fella.  Please excuse the self-indulgent adjectives – I was younger and prone to romantic rambling.  Ah, the drama that comes with being single. . .

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Since we’re being honest here, I have to admit something.  While I might inspire you to be open, your effect on me is quite different.  How do I say this?  Um.  Ok.  Well, quite frankly, you scare the hell out of me.  After reading an email from you, my stomach feels like it is full of acid.  I find myself marveling, in a pleased kind of way, that you so easily read between my lines.  This area is usually perplexing to people.  Seriously.  Very perplexing.  I have always relied on this space to intrigue and confuse people, thereby creating some space between us, and, a little perch of power for myself.  This is the area that holds all my truth – this storehouse that few to none know how to access.  Most every one is mystified by the in-betweens.

Not you.  You don’t even hesitate.  You just seem to know.  Do you struggle with it at all?  Do you think about it and the other possible meanings that I could mean?  Whether I’m hinting, or revealing, or misleading, or double-talking?  Or, do you have no doubt at all?  Do you just get it immediately?

Your complete lack of mystification mystifies me completely.  I am nonplussed.  It is totally disconcerting, and I’m not sure I like it.  I kind of want to throw up.