“Entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem.”
Sometimes when he speaks to me
I want to cry.
I don’t know why
I just do.
On the one hand, he’s so special
And on the other
he cuts me.
He is reality after all.
I have never met a human being so dead set on
Weeding through life’s crap
To the point where
It all reeks.
Even the good stuff.
Everything we touch is not made of gold
It’s just gold tone
Turning our hands green as we speak.
I almost cried today listening to him.
I can’t remember exactly what it was that made the tears
Begin to form.
It was probably just the truth.
About me being so fickle
And about him being so dead set on pointing it out.
Beginning relationships are the worst for me.
When I start them
If he seems to be the right one
I tend to be all about them
And then fall back from them
If only to think about what I’m doing
its got to be off putting.
I just don’t know how else to get myself
On solid footing
To not be such a dreamer
In a world full of dream killers.
I find myself floating on a cloud
And then realize
It’s the storm kind
Ready to pour all over me
And my fragile world
And my way of life
And all that I hold dear.
So I try to choose my clouds carefully.
I try to not be “that girl”.
But I am.
I lure them in
And then have no idea what’s
Supposed to happen next
And if they’re not the type with a plan
Forget about it.
And if they are?
Forget about it.
Falling in love can literally take days
Probably because I have no idea what love
Truly means to me.
It’s like I’ve been given
A crumpled up blueprint
And I’m reading it
Broken
Backwards
And upside down.
Who builds buildings or
Life’s work
Or kingdoms that way?
Apparently only me.
Which explains so much
And leaves so much more
Up to interpretation.
It would be so much better if I would just allow myself this aching.
If I could just say out loud what I’m afraid of.
But I won’t.
I deny the obvious
Because I feel in control enough
Of everything uncontrollable
to change it.
My naivety
Is exactly what hinders me
And my fear of both
Freedom
And marital bondage
Is what plagues me.
It keeps me stuck
In one place
Ever growing in mind
And never moving in spirit.
I seem never to move.
My body is stuck
In the place I hate
Between
Having everything
And wanting nothing.
Between wanting everything
And having nothing.
I wish it were that easy
To just choose one
And go with it.
Is it that easy?
I doubt it.
But it certainly can
Not possibly be this
Hard
Either.
Occam’s Razor it is then…
“Entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem.”
Which means
Essentially
Try not to be so complicated for no damn reason.
Meanwhile, the chorus in my head begins singing
Good luck with that…
-e-