I write with music playing in the background: I rarely do. Though Rachmaninoff’s second piano concerto is fitting for my emotions. It is a mixture of intensity and murkiness. I want to express these emotions. Though their expression requires a sort of unprecedented introspection. Perhaps the music will guide me through this dark path of understanding the self, and understanding others.
“The heart of another is a dark forest, always, no matter how close it has been to one’s own.” – Willa Cather
It is a curious thought that certain happenstances have not manifested themselves after reading the fascinating blog post. The level of detail recalled in it, the hasty, rushed phrases all communicate with a strong, resonating chord. It is a sweet memory, it is so, and it always will be. Though my understanding lessens when the implied emotion conveyed through the blog were mismatched with the current situation, a state of disjunctive, segmented slices of phrases. And it is with intermittent sips that I ironically taste the grape juice, and yes, I checked, at 200 mL.
Perhaps it is through my own thoughts, dreams, and expectations that the future cannot be fully gratifying. The dreams are there, I keep them there, however hopeless they may seem. They are there for the same reason which we continue to live: a man without dreams is one without goals is one without happiness and something to work for. Though such dreams are not grounded. They, for the most part, depend on happenstance. If such events do not occur to my liking, I often blame myself and seek out actions that I have done which may have contributed to such an outcome. These causation-effect relationships can be as in depth as not asking her about something she has done. They can be as overly thought out as the phrasing of a text message. And they can be as trivial as the placement and orientation of the TV remote on my bed. It is an improper method based on superstition and must be controlled, for it brings me unduly levels of overt sadness and deep pondering.
Why must I dissect my analysis to such an extent, an extent so distorted it cannot seem to make any logical sense? Perhaps the self is the only part of the world I can control. Though such a reasoning is highly flawed. Specific outcomes occur as such due to many external factors. The number of splashes on the bag of rice has no influence whatsoever on the relationship. Though, even if I shift away from such a fixation, I cannot grapple the thought of the attempt to understand her.
“You have to know someone a thousand days before you can glimpse her soul.” – Shannon Hale
It has been almost three weeks since I’ve seen her. That impromptu night, filled with blissfully bright decadence. It is perhaps its unplanned nature that makes it so special. A night of music appreciation was transformed into a chance for conversation, a crossroad of two lives. She greeted me with warmth and an unexpected embrace. I can still feel the warmth radiating after all these weeks. Throughout the conversation, I had thought of its contrast to the technology media. It had the dynamic upbringing that was absent via text message. More importantly, it created a moment which I wanted to relive.
But time has since passed.
Time passes. Plans deferred week after week, reasons alternating between us. Perhaps there will come a time, I keep telling myself, perhaps one day. Though I endow patience as a virtue, the endurance is a marathon. From the beginning I needed to understand the self. Only through understanding the self can one adapt this knowledge to others. Though I have considered my specific desires, I have neglected their reasons. Though, their reasons are much too abstract and humanly to dissect. There is a supernatural force related to such emotions that cannot be analysed and justified.
But ultimately, what do I feel? How might I go about dealing with such strong emotions? Perhaps I always worry about the overstatement of these emotions. Though she said otherwise, streaks of messages can be drowning and unattractive. Perhaps when I go on highs at night I can effectively spew out poetic bs with an inspired mind. At other times there is little purpose in sending strings of texts, especially if they are one-directional.
I have had to come to terms with back up plans. There is no way for me to predict her decisions, and I must be ready to deal with possible changes. Though it is a logical reaction that the more I plan, the more disappointed I am of a change in plans. I want to avoid making another causation-effect relationship, though such a link would be stronger than those superfluous connections I make. The night of lights was not planned. The afternoon of drinks was not planned either. Ultimately, I can hypothesize that the best hours of time comes when the pieces of the puzzle that is the world just fall into place. It is when we share time together, it is when we bond together, and it is when I realize that she brings a part of me that I never knew was missing.
There were nights when the desire would persist with such urgency that I had to play the piano to sooth my soul. These emotions are bounded, desperately waiting to be released, and music is my temporary escape. Perhaps I found a way to dedicate such feelings through the craft of a scarf, though it was only that day. Though, here another question arises: if such a post conveyed the amount of emotion it did in its words, how can a duality be integrated into both our lives?
As time passes, perhaps I could begin to understand. And it does take time. For me to understand, there must be something to understand. With limited time, there are these rare opportunities when an undisturbed session may be in place. Though at other times, it is still possible, just that I refrain from doing so. Why? I tell myself that the environment is not suitable for such conversations. Though I can imagine the beautiful progression of events if we sat next to each other. As insignificant as the seating placement may seem, it is that insignificance that sums up to become something grand and magnificent. And it is through exactly that, a seating arrangement, that we have traveled to this place in time today.
It is often happenstance, but I have the ability to change specific outcomes for the better. As minuscule as some changes may seem, their aggregate change is unknown. Its unknown nature is what makes action superior to inaction. The stylish, well executed sequence of actions may lead to efforts unfruitful and uneventful. Though it makes attempts to open doors which will remain forever shut if inaction was the action. There is always hope.
As long as time continues to tick by, things happen.