{being; liquid}

i am so, so glad to have had the responses to my post that i did, all reflecting humbling & different reactions to the topic i was deflecting aways from.

i really feel no guilt about leaving newcastle which is very amusing to me. as someone who had experienced early life abuse, sexual & mental, i developed that particular response which is to internalise everything that occurs as a reflection of my actions, even in events that have no direct correlation to me or my sphere of influence. guilt is what i spent the majority of my currency of youth on, but without the purchase i wouldn't have surmounted the being i am here.

{as such i find the news a terrible thing to watch.}

so to be causing such rupture in my status quo, genuinely hurting some people, brings forward my other focal drive, empathy on every level. my exquisite points shifting, a sfumato venn diagram with all those who i touch. my reactions become informed by a blending of the emotions other's present to me & the internalised, reciprocal empathy that i generate. that empathy is my defensive reaction {attacking through retreat} brought about through lingering fear of rejection. a calm cry for intimacy. as such i am acutely intimate with everyone i meet, a mercurial prism flitting between shapes, suspending at centre a fine sliver of personality. as i shift i do so to attempt to centre both myself & the person i am communicating with.

but when viewed from the side, which is rare for me, that fine sliver, though narrow, is high & broad indeed. my communications are cross-sections, presenting only finest slice of myself.

last night martin's babe had me brought about, berthing me into a three-quarters broadside. ever the comforting consul he simply & succinctly teased the threads of my sliver into view & my story tumbled, a babbling brook, spilling out across their suburban floor til we were ankle deep in me. it wasn't bad, it wasn't nice, it just was. for once the moment & myself were one, I was.

& in the same way the topic of my previous post, carefully slivered between self fulfilling deflection & ham hock expression has brought my literary friends into broadside berthing as well, even if the angle may be hard to maintain {eljen}, hard to admit {martin} or just plain brute-iful {lux}.

all, i think, reflect the ways of each individual in coming towards their friendships, each leaving fine cockerels of personality on a shifting shoreline, still wet, & cupping clear sea water.

you are all very fine.

>:3