Continuity

[lhexa]

Two weeks ago I became the proud possessor of a face that hurt from smiling too much. It's not an unfamiliar sensation, but in the past I always exercised different muscles. The place, specifically, was a collection of haunted houses out in Waxahachie, to my mind a better venue than movies, though those're nice too. I hope that the friendships I've started there (and elsewhere recently) last, because I really like these people (should I say "you people" yet?). Noone was being friendly from feeling obligated to be friendly. No party involved had anything to prove to themselves, or any desperation to satisfy, and though the physical affection was more than I'm used to, I sure do enjoy it. Although I'm still somewhat a recluse, being untrue to my past tendencies is part of who I am.

The entry price was somewhat steep, the food overpriced, my pockets soon empty. Waiting in line was fun with the fun company, and the attractions were good too. Nothing scared me, but the air guns always hit me, and noises startled me a few times. The rotating room was cool: I stood in it and reeled.

Having had the courage to seek out new companionship, the opportunities now prove many. I've learned a lot about various people, and they about me; skills long neglected have been put to use again, so that I can be affectionate with less temerity. (Socratic dialogues would be better with some nuzzling.) I'm finding too few words to describe how much all this means to me... but hopefully the occasions for doing so will continue.

...

This is in contrast to an experience with another friend, at the same haunted houses, though in a different year. Our friendship was long and distant, though I can recall a time when our acquaintance was recent, and us too shallow to merit any plunge. It was a coincidence at the beginning, a concurrence of children's hyperactivity and fantasy; towards the end, until I departed for college, I was his pride but he was my duty. Even as much a recluse as I was, I figured going somewhere with him couldn't hurt; but how could I ever take to socializing, when it was with someone who apparently had no self to which he could be untrue?

The entry price was steep, the food overpriced, my pockets soon empty. Waiting in line was tedious, though the attractions made up for the waits. Nothing really scared me, but the air guns always hit me dead on, and noises startled me a few times. The rotating room was cool: I stood in it and reeled. Some things stay the same. Sadly, some people do too.

Devin still calls every now and then, and I haven't the guts to turn him away. During our conversations I learn much about his recent life, he virtually nothing about mine; that's because our friendship long ago degenerated to a mere act of skill on my part, a way of showing to myself that I could be sociable. In fact, it was with him that I perfected the questions-only approach to talking that would get me in so much trouble years later. No number of words can convey how little there is between us. If I could justify the guilt to myself I would tell him I'm sorry... sorry about how I smiled when I remembered to, since somewhere inside I knew it was what I ought to be doing.

...

Recently I've come to be the prouder of this uncomfortable match, my past self and I. It confuses one to have too much continuity, and too much loyalty to one's emotions; but when this past self, younger and fitter but oh-so-clingy, loses his grip: that is when I, we both gain.

Comments

[wickedorin.livejournal.com]

Joy is good. Joy is part of life lived.

It's really interesting to read this... "Something happened" in the past that just completely split up my life into what really feels like two separate ones. Guess I never have really... "rejoined" the dead/past self... but then, I've had no interest in it really. Different situation, of course, but still a very interesting perspective.

[lhexa.livejournal.com]

*nods* There are other things in my past that I hope I don't end up revisiting in the future, unlike the subject of the entry.