13 035. Hold My Hand

I looked down on my hands with a hurt expression and my eyes teared up. I pushed my nails into the soft bit connecting to the thumb and pressed my eyes closed. 

If she had been in front of me, if she had said it to my face I would have kept my cool with out any greater effort. And I would perhaps had lit a cigarette, or mentally done so anyways, and said something arrogant like 

‘Ok, well, thanks for sharing your opinion. I was aware when writing that not everybody would be able to relate to the text..’ 

‘Its funny how you say juvenile tho. What is, exactly, the difference between a young lovelorn and a grown up one.’ 

‘I feel like what makes you say that is a teenage romance, is the overall sensation of powerlessness. This is a general state of mind you go through in your teens, right. The grown-ups have all power, and you are left with all this frustration, right. 

But have you really never been that in-love with anyone in your adult life? After you moved out and can assert some mild form of imaginary power, have you never felt like you were under the spell of someone else.’ 

‘I honestly feel sorry for you, if you never felt that kind of heart wrenching love. As painful as it is, it’s a mindwobbeling experience. And I honestly think its good for you. That kind of love would let you dive deep into the soul of another person if they allow it, and deep into yourself simultaneously. You push your boundaries and reach a new level of acceptance. Feeling that deeply and strongly about anther person will put you in a position where you can go that deep, because you are not afraid of what you might find. That strong sort of indefinable kind of love, of bond between you and your feelings will not break, will not weaver no matter how foul things get. You will come out on the other side, after that person took you though the depths of their hell and you will find that you still love them. Whatever you found during the way was things that build up that person. You don’t start to dislike a house you love with beautiful exterior and lovely decoration and perfect lighting because you find out that the basement really scares the shit out of you. The things that are above stays the same. You think that the darkness of the basement will start to spread and catch you off guard during a lovely Sunday dinner. Perhaps your imagination is a little bit too wild and I would advice you to confront your fears. Perhaps spend some more time in the basement until you become more familiar with the things down there ya?’

But she wasn’t infront of me. What I had infornt of me was a screen with some text on it. The text was shooting in all kinds of directions, springing from some kind of truth and then lazering right out to space. Zoom. Where was I in all of this, I thought. Where was the dialogue. Where was the conversation. 
It wasn’t a conversation of course. It was a outlet and I felt like a trashcan.