At Last

[phantasm]

At last I have found it:

A place full of people unlikely to treat me like a mutant.

My life has been such a slog.

Avoiding experimentation with relationships.

It's as if I had a permanent frog in my throat.

The more some people get to know me, the more likely they treat me like a mutant.

But it's damn near impossible to determine beforehand who will and who won't.

I all but forgot what it's like to meet new people.

Now it's not so bad.

Egad! A room full of decent people.

(So far as I know. For now.)

Maybe I will stick around for a nice long while. Perhaps, for the rest of my days, for as long as I have breath.

[artolmaeus]

sometimes, a person may talk about how they felt at the ocean, the water running over their feet, and for a moment, they were open to something and they felt it, so they tell us about it, and we listen and we say "that's nice" and we mean it, meaning well mean it, but we did not experience it ..sometimes two people watch a TV show together and they say nothing, but they both felt something and part of it was that they were together...then, people want to try to hack that, somehow, and it gets frustrating...but everyone has an experience that can come from sitting in top of a mountain or just brushing their teeth, but they felt it, sometimes it is a short moment, but it felt so good....then maybe some well meaning person, who experienced in some part a moment of self forgiveness, and, wow, it may have been the first time. There is no way to fully grasp the context of what they felt or feel, but they want to share it and it is a bit of being vulnerable and well, I recognize that, there is a sweet intention in what you wrote, I can identify with a good bit of it and it trails off into wordless feelings, but, they are good feelings and good remembrances and it is that moment, for me, I hope to write something prosaic or poetic that in one part serves as a kind of notebook where the words are trying to catch that feeling and maybe someone reads it and there might be feedback and then, just that it is out there, maybe you even speak these words out loud, but you put it out there, right or wrong you express it, for me, if poetry is anything it is a lot like dancing, and I am so conscious and fearful of being judged and at some point, though I am awful at dancing, fuck it, I am going to dance, and in part I do look spastic but in another part, it is ok, freeing even, that it does not need feedback and I don't completely notice it, I try to avoid it, because now, I am a dancer, that is what I do, I dance and at that point yes, there is some forgiveness, if just for my own reticence, which well, does nothing but this reticence is some form of security and yet, it does not secure anything, like dancing awfully...so today, I am a reader, writing on the experience I got from what I just read and it brought up so much because you wrote something that addresses something akin to it and you expressed a gratitude in feeling a part of something no one may get the train of thought I write in, I write it any ways, but this reached me because you wrote something out, that would not always be easy to address myself and I do feel that we have missed something with all the distractions and other so "important"things to feel what we are reading and feel it with the context of our own experience, just like flowers in a field of weeds, sometimes it is the weeds that are more beautiful as they give the flowers a chance to contrast...that is writing, good writing but it is also good reading and for me, I don't get to do that often enough, so I pop in, sometimes don't sign in or sign in and I read, sometimes, get a feeling, see something and well, thank you.

[phantasm]

You're welcome.