My tongue is in my hand…

the difference

Posted on: July 2, 2008

the difference between isolation and solitude, freedom and aimlessness, room to breathe and lonely.

sitting in traffic on the overpass, watching the guy in front of me eat a sandwich in his sideveiw mirror and looking at the guy beside me with his frizzy hair in a ponytail and his hairy arm hanging out the window.  feeling safe, part of something- rush hour.  i am a person sitting in her car in rush hour traffic, twirling her hair and listening to music and everyone can see me and i can see them and we are all doing something different and we are all doing something the same. relief.

being in people’s homes, holding their children, sitting on their furniture and hearing the most intimate, i-wouldn’t-tell-my-best-friend-or-mother kind of thing.  all day.  and family and phone calls to friends and it’s all intense. it’s a lot of give.  it’s a lot of expectation.  it’s a lot of one way.  it’s a lot of skimming the top.  i am raped of actual intimacy.  that’s uneasy.  that twists.


1 Response to "the difference"

It’s strange, you would think, with secrets, things would become intimate, but I’m of the thought that if you strip away all the subterfuge, the small lies, the hidden resentments, the walls between bubbles would break loose…

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