These two things are at war: the desire to be settled, established, accomplished in life, the satisfaction of having realized one’s potential in life and then the fear of being trapped, having squandered that potential, or at least simple disgust at the structuring of life that you could only realize one of your potential selves; and then people make you feel so small because they think that’s who you are, your identity, when really you know you could’ve been so many things. You make possibility reality, and there’s comfort in that; but there’s also a sense of loss: what was dynamic has, in a way, become static.
Hiding from the Stars
It was like standing in the middle of an open field on a clear night, trying to hide from the stars. He must have already known what I had done, just like the stars would have seen me all along as I fruitlessly darted and ducked behind fences and bales of hay – and now all I could really do was to march straight up to him and openly reveal my transgression against his loyal love.