The Longer I Lay Here

   Two posts in one day? Talk about narcissism! But seriously people, shit's about to get real.

   I just had a long conversation with Johnny, who you may or may not remember and are welcome to catch up on here. He and I have fallen out of touch with each other, due to time, distance and the awkward stiff exchanges that have developed in their wake. It's often easier to let things fall by the wayside, to succumb to the seeming inevitability of drifting. Until today, when he pissed me off.
   I posted a dreamy facebook status about the romance of youth and letting the world break your heart, and he responded with a snarky psychoanalysis, claiming I was projecting frustration I felt with my own apathy onto the rest of the world. I responded with a sarcastic thank you for his insights, and forced myself not to send him a text message demanding that he never dare psychoanalyze me ever again, for fear of death or whatever.
   Tonight I saw him on facebook chat and decided to make a joke of it, asking very sarcastically when his interest in psychoanalysis had developed. He responded sincerely, the bitter undercurrent evidently (and fortunately) having been swallowed whole by the internet, explaining that it was an ongoing process, "sparked by the fire of self-discovery." Driven by his sincerity, I told him I was in the process of redefining my own identity and trying to overcome my fears of intimacy and communication through breaking down my mental barriers, but that it was still in its infancy and I wasn't sure "which barriers were appropriate." He responded with: "You are awesome. Honestly. I'm so glad we can talk like this and I want to support you any way I can." This led to an hour and a half of confessional honesty, a baring of egos and self-inflicted obstacles on relationships and the construction of self-images and the limits of our very similarly contained selves.
   The conversation ended with an agreement for another later in the week. Whether it will happen or not- your guess is as good as mine. Either way, I'm happy and nervous that I overcame a little bit of myself tonight. And that's one of the best things I've been able to say to myself in months.

You Can Bring Me Flowers

   I love this part.  It's perfect.  I get so hopelessly lost in everything you say.  I keep this part to myself.  I spend days on end smiling to myself.  I walk into tables and chairs in a dizzy bliss.  I'm enamored with every single word.  This is what no one else understands.  This is why we stay together.  This is why I stay with you.  Because you make me helplessly, deliriously, trip-over-myself happy.  And we're the only people who need to get that.
   Each snowflake enchants me as it falls past my face.  Somehow, in the dark and the cold, alone, I feel so complete.  We are fools. I am so grateful for our foolishness.
   I dissolve in every single smile.  We confront our agonizing history where your unapologetic neediness meets my repressed maternity.  And we transcend it where you coerce my nurturance out from within the self-defensive bitterness.
   It's so much sweeter to let myself succumb to the moment.  It's so rare that I relinquish even an instant of control.
     Are we finally going to figure this out?