Today I had a really hard, a sad time to accept what I could not change. I've talked before about this gap that's always there between people, even when love is involved.
It's just hard to accept that you cannot make someone do what you want this someone to do. Especially if you haven't reached the stage of love - yet. Or if you are not supposed to reach it. Or don't want to reach it at all. Or if you don't know what you want to reach but know what you want: to be noticed.
Plaintext, it's hardest, if one of two has reached a different level. A heart always becomes so small when someone is rejecting or not recognising it. Even if it's unintentional.
So. And here I am having stumbled right into a fantasy. Triggered by a pair of hands that know what they are doing. Hands that show more heart and feeling that I imagined possible in a person. Touching so gently what is not even skin or hair, caressing a prescious gadget. I've watched this caressing many many times while my imagination kept playing tricks on me. And I also got drowned in this fantasy.
And what's even worse, at that time I didn't even realise what had happened to me. Until something else came up. The caressing gained a voice. And I? Got lost. This was something completely different. My imagination added up and made a story out of it.
So going to sleep is a real challenge now. I lift off as soon as my resting consciousness allows it, I lift off and go on the same route every night, into a darkness full of beautiful tones, being caressed myself, being held and more. I wake up with a smile, I tell you. And then the sobering sets in. And I realise that it's been a week without a word. That this is all nothing. Less than nothing, really, if I think it through, 'cause from what I know it could all be a nameless fantasy.
The only option for an artist is to say something without saying it. That's called faculty of expression. Well I guess there is also a huge gap between me and artistry.