December 28th, 2000

Brown-eyed Stare

The maniacal mumblings of my heart (or; yes, folks, she falls again)

An open letter to my current scope:

Okay… I’m not sure how to put this, so I’ll be blunt. I like you. I like your company and your smile. I’d like to go out, just once, for dinner, and see how that goes. To share some good conversation, a nice dinner, and a glass of wine or two. That’s all for right now -- to enjoy the company and see what happens.

I find you really attractive, but to be honest, the fascination you have with scotch worries me. Perhaps it ought not to... but my sensitivities lately are thin in the area of alcohol. You see, I’ve already had to visit someone in the hospital because of cirrhosis this year. It broke my heart to see my Dad in ICU, knowing he was so close to death because of his drinking. And my common sense (better sense) is telling me that because of the connection to heavy drink, I should run screaming from the room. You’re fascinating but dangerous.

My intuition tells me that you are torn and bleeding inside (no matter how pretty the outer façade), that you’re in pain, and in dire need of numbing, if not comfort. I fear the effects of alcohol as a coping agent. And I really don't want to become your numbing agent, either. Hells, I don’t need you as *mine* -- which is what you’d become; as an empath, I can smell psychic pain a mile away. Yours would be a numbing agent to take me far away from my own pain, and ultimately from my own growth, if I let it. Sick as it may sound, it's truthful; I have learned that much about myself. And I'm trying to learn how to unlearn it.

Unfortunately, I fall in love with potential, and in you, I can see that one plus one would be so much more than two. In this instance, the call of like to like is a clear keening, one I find hard to ignore. And I don't know if the danger should just steer me away, or if it simply provides a tasty sauce to an already tempting dish.

Your “numbing to cope” is what scares me the most; I know where that road leads. And yeah, I know you hurt like hell right now, but pain is like garbage; it gets worse if you don’t cope with it soon. But therein lies the rub: how do we cope with pain as adults who need to continue to function, and make a living? I don't have a good answer to that one.

So, there’s my dilemma: I find your smile sweet, your eyes fascinating, and your company enchanting. You’re nearly irresistible. You have the intellect, sharp wit, good taste and political finesse I so enjoy being near. You have the experience of life behind you, but there’s still a twinkle of fun in your eyes; they haven’t lost the spark of youth (and oh, how I prize that).

As for me, I’m a bit of a putz (even if I am cute), and I’m afraid I’ve already got “stalker chick” written on my forehead somewhere. I don’t want to appear on the make, but I want to be honest about this fascination, because you do have me curious, and I *am* by nature, very forward. (So much for behaving in a traditionally “female” manner, eh? :-)

I am so much younger, in some ways, than you are. And in others, I feel so old, and I want to ask you why you pursue futile things? Or to ask why they are not futile to you. I want to ask you so many questions, and to talk at length about the answers. And I would love to listen to you. So, maybe we really *are* well suited.

But you are knee-deep in shit in your own life, and probably want nothing more than to be alone with your sorrow, and to work the time (and hopefully the pain) away. Getting close to someone right now is probably last on your list.

And that is probably a good thing, although it’s not what my heart would choose.

Time will tell, I guess. For now, I think I'm just chasing my own tail. And I'm babbling, so'll shut up now.

More later.