They say it makes the heart grow fonder. I’d agree. It also allows one to dwell on the bad bits too. To stew and grumble. The funny part of it is that even with that dwelling upon, the dwelling upon the bad bits, well, I’d say that my heart still grows fonder. Ironic. Maybe it’s the imperfections we love as much as the wonderful parts.

Who knew. Except maybe those pesky poets and all.

In other news, I was given reason to think of a woman I used to know that spoke a great deal about fear. It was one of those, “doth complaineth too much” about other’s fear and speaking of… When the mirror would tell the truth. I realized, I don’t know when, but I thought of it again and felt sad for her. I realized that her fear was a statement of her vunerability and she was unable to express it as vunerability. I wish I could speak with her, that she were not so far gone from my world that I could give her hope. That if she only began to express her fear as vunerability it might just run away from her and she might get a better, more authentic reaction from those who loved her so.

Hmmm, a realization too late.


~ by mud on May 24, 2007.

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