Roots the size of tree trunks
Jun. 7th, 2022 10:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greenstormReached out to Angus and chatted a little. You know, if love feels like a steel cable anchoring me to someone, whatever it is between Angus and I is like the root of a mountain. It's quiet, it's not really above the surface, but so much of my being rests on it back when. I broke my moral code when I let Blake coerce me into not seeing Angus anymore; he doesn't hold it against me. We're still tied. He'd like to talk more and thinks of me often, as I do him.
It's been a long road since I first wrote about him, many good years and then many, many years apart. I'm glad to know the road does not only lead further apart always.
I'll have a video chat with Tillie this week. They think they might be PDA. They formed me as much as Angus did, though we've never been in formal structure nor lovers. It will be so good to talk, and to talk about those engines and locks at the heart of us. I only hope I have something to offer.
I suspect I will. Threaded through my journal are so many veins of PDA. I had no idea, but now I understand. I found this one tonight:
I tell stories. Let me tell you my story.
I have a ...process assigned to me. I don't know what it is, if it's sentient, any of that. I'd call it a character-building angel or a remarkably consistent twist of fate but that would lead you to believe I favour one over the other. I don't. I don't even favour the thought that it's unique to me over the thought that it's not. In my life, I have observed a process.
The process is attracted by certain words and turns of phrase. It's attracted, basically, by arrogance. Perhaps this is karma, the wheel turning on my intense arrogance and crushing it to dust.
...because, in a remarkably consistent and predictable way, this process crushes me to dust. There are two words that always call it, generally within a couple days but sometimes it lurks for up to two months before it powders me and all that's left is the dust of conviction blowing away in the wind. Those words are "always" and "never". All it takes is a sincere declaration: "I could never eat raw zucchini" or "I'll never leave you" or "I'll always be there for you".
I rarely slip up and use those words anymore. Sometimes I can get away with "always", when I think very hard of intentions rather than outcomes. I can often get away with "won't" or "will". It's the surety that the process takes note of.
It's been a long road since I first wrote about him, many good years and then many, many years apart. I'm glad to know the road does not only lead further apart always.
I'll have a video chat with Tillie this week. They think they might be PDA. They formed me as much as Angus did, though we've never been in formal structure nor lovers. It will be so good to talk, and to talk about those engines and locks at the heart of us. I only hope I have something to offer.
I suspect I will. Threaded through my journal are so many veins of PDA. I had no idea, but now I understand. I found this one tonight:
I tell stories. Let me tell you my story.
I have a ...process assigned to me. I don't know what it is, if it's sentient, any of that. I'd call it a character-building angel or a remarkably consistent twist of fate but that would lead you to believe I favour one over the other. I don't. I don't even favour the thought that it's unique to me over the thought that it's not. In my life, I have observed a process.
The process is attracted by certain words and turns of phrase. It's attracted, basically, by arrogance. Perhaps this is karma, the wheel turning on my intense arrogance and crushing it to dust.
...because, in a remarkably consistent and predictable way, this process crushes me to dust. There are two words that always call it, generally within a couple days but sometimes it lurks for up to two months before it powders me and all that's left is the dust of conviction blowing away in the wind. Those words are "always" and "never". All it takes is a sincere declaration: "I could never eat raw zucchini" or "I'll never leave you" or "I'll always be there for you".
I rarely slip up and use those words anymore. Sometimes I can get away with "always", when I think very hard of intentions rather than outcomes. I can often get away with "won't" or "will". It's the surety that the process takes note of.
