goats and mirrors

I imagine a time when you are looking at old photographs, or clicking through facebook feeds, or tired and lonely... a bitterness will come over you, mixed with heart ache. A joy stunted, a chapped smile. It wont be a moment of self chastisement, because you've never been like that. It will be a moment of anger, lost opportunity for affection. And you'll wonder why I never knocked at your door. Never called too late. Never let my tongue slip. Never let my hands grip too tightly. I've never held you right. I never will. 
And in admiration you'll talk about your friend, your close close friend, warmth attempting to spread in any easy direction, and the sentence will end... as you find you're left wanting... coolness recapping all trace of what had spread, now an emptiness, a dread.

A friend asked what I was drawn to right now... I answered a good book, a journal, a long walk.

And if you are feeling particularly spiteful or in desire of a challenge, you'll guess at the meanings of words and gestures and looks.  You'll consider quick responses... Do you want to hang out sometime soon?  Sure. When?  Followed by long discussions, winding thoughts, jokes and stories,  way too much intellectualizing, shared notes from textbook sources, too much consideration in a way that almost seems validating, seems so validating, seems like something real... but you've never been quite sure. And then the distance... which you'll blame on me. The true invitation never opened. 
You'll perhaps second guess, considering gifts, or tasks meant to say "I am here for you," but wonder why nothing was asked to make it equal. Mutual sharing, never a strong point. Reciprocity a battle, with one combatant. There were words you'll say, words that meant a lot, that touched, that reached. Deep stares, the humanist of smiles. And then... what?  Gifts exchanged, then put away.

A friend said recently, that she considered me to be quite a private person. To which I scoffed.

And if you push this question, you'll ask why those boundaries were so invisibly present, so steadfast yet seemingly benign in the moment. You'll perhaps question at this point why you weren't good enough to be open with, why he(I) was so needlessly stubborn around you, so silent in moments that could have been alive, and so alive in moments that mattered little. Maybe you'll wonder why I never pushed past my rumbling stomach, or my hardened heart. You'll question why a person can't make leaps that seem so simple.  Perhaps you'll blame it on my work (as I often have) the draining exhaustion of -give too much and receive too little.  Then you'll consider my trips (as I often have) as escapes from this self imposition, and wonder why it was so necessary to leave you, to be me...

A friend recently said with some spite that -I was already gone.

and I am not sure I have the words, the convincing gestures, the right way to hold you, to make it seem any other way.  I haven't taken the risks, I haven't plead for understanding, I haven't asked...
and I probably won't.
It makes me sad, and feels very familiar.

I spent some time invested in the story of another the other day... I tried to shift the understanding the person had, to the reality of the story.  The words are such, believe they mean it... but when their behaviors don't follow, recognize they might be incapable of following through on what they mean...
Who we think we are and who we are... may not be aligned.

But it bothers me, for all my intentional presence... that I cannot meet the expectations I help create in people.  I am not a private person. I just don't value a lot of the things I have to say...I share them all day at work. I say them in journals and poems and blog posts.   I share my intellectual ideas, my spiritual ideas, I share them because I think they are important.  I share my feelings, but I share them after consideration.
I share my drama, when I can focus it on a track that makes it a learning experience.  I share my frustrations openly,  but I also enjoy them, so I am likely to laugh while doing so... so it may not seem like they are as intense  as they actually are. I share my anger, but I have a lot less of it than I used to, because I don't need anger to fuel my courage in the same way as I once did (that goes for outside world things). I don't share my heartache and personal anger as openly because I am extremely emotional and I know that these feelings come and go, positive and negative and I am a little protective of them.
I don't reach out, because I respect your space. Because I don't trust my hands with the right pressure. I don't call because I respect your time, because I am scared of your voice and the sound of rejection. I don't go to your events, because I don't enjoy myself in a crowd. I can't hear my thoughts, I can't concentrate my desires, and my desires are almost always about deeper connections, that I can't fathom at a party. I am a goat standing on a mountain, I want you to join me, when we are both sure you're ready.

But root of the issue... I don't think its the fact that I am a Capricorn that makes all this the reality.

-I think when I share too much people get overwhelmed, resentful, numb or dismissive. I am apt to make a fool of myself and alienate people.
-I think when I was young I didn't respect people's boundaries well enough, and so I am hyper sensitive about doing so now.
-I think the fact that I am a rather emotional person, requires me to be careful about how much I invest in other people. So I have to be a little protective.

But I don't do these things to be separate, evasive, private, shallow, half-assed.
I do them so I can be present, engaged, validating, concerned, respectful, loving.

Looks like I have some work to do to reconcile these behaviors with the meanings they are supposed to represent.