While At Temple
I’m never forthcoming—I still probably won’t be by the end. It’s more amusing, in my opinion, because people actually might believe it might be them I’m talking about. Someone who hasn’t talked to me or contacted me might believe it is them—then a line is made, and on one end it is egotistical and then on the other end it is empathic.
But these days—I talk to few people. We all talk to few people—our, but in this case, my list has grown smaller, it might be because I’m so easily forgotten, like the date or a lightly used pin number—it’s one of my fears. It’s why it’s difficult for me to make “nice” with people, because the idea of being in my life and then not being there frightens me. So—instead of making a friend with the strong chance of losing them in the near future, I don’t make friends at all, and of those that have been in my life—they’ve welded themselves onto me. My choice or not—they are there for the long hall [which isn’t a bad thing, it’s one of my comforts].
Isn’t that why we seek love? Yes, they say religion and family. I can find someone who thinks like me and wants the same things I want [personally, I’d probably maim my doppelganger]. But let us look beyond the physical and the emotional security, and make the idea simpler—that is to be a priority in a life: to take care of and be taken care of, and trust that person to do so.
It’s maybe why so many have shied away from me—because they could never be my world, the best they could ask for would be “to just be a part of it,” and it’s an answer that never seems to be enough.
I was at temple yesterday. A new statue was being presented, and Buddhist monks and nuns from the eastern part of the country had all attended the ceremony. I was just another person among 50 people in suits and shoeless, kneeling and chanting to the tempo of a gong and heavy drum. There were many pearl necklaces, diamond earrings, and expensive watches—it was tough to think that we were here promoting humility.
“Next time, it will be you,” she said after the service, insinuating that it was her job to marry me—like I was incomplete, wasting time—but more importantly that I wasn’t adequate enough to do the job myself. Let a professional handle the matter—that was what her wink said, and before that—I was even starting to like this old woman. There were two girls [they might have been somewhere in-between 18 to 25], and I use the term girl because their faces still looked like they hadn’t been pulled apart from hate or late night thinking. And I wanted to say something, but couldn’t—not because I was shy, but because I didn’t want to be him.
The man that is the reason you are the way you are—I understand it sounds egotistical, but it is not meant to be. A relationship never begins with the contention of hurting anyone, but it happens—we all realize that people fail us, we fail people. We’re soldiers coming back from a bad love, survivors wearing broken hearts. We take our break and we go back in when we feel like we the strength to take in another. Like I said, “I don’t want to be him,” the man that taught this truth.
One of the girls, wearing a Vietnamese long dress and tiger print purse, tripped into me—I caught her. I asked her if she was alright, she brushed herself off and said embarrassed, “Yes, I’m better for now.”
But these days—I talk to few people. We all talk to few people—our, but in this case, my list has grown smaller, it might be because I’m so easily forgotten, like the date or a lightly used pin number—it’s one of my fears. It’s why it’s difficult for me to make “nice” with people, because the idea of being in my life and then not being there frightens me. So—instead of making a friend with the strong chance of losing them in the near future, I don’t make friends at all, and of those that have been in my life—they’ve welded themselves onto me. My choice or not—they are there for the long hall [which isn’t a bad thing, it’s one of my comforts].
Isn’t that why we seek love? Yes, they say religion and family. I can find someone who thinks like me and wants the same things I want [personally, I’d probably maim my doppelganger]. But let us look beyond the physical and the emotional security, and make the idea simpler—that is to be a priority in a life: to take care of and be taken care of, and trust that person to do so.
It’s maybe why so many have shied away from me—because they could never be my world, the best they could ask for would be “to just be a part of it,” and it’s an answer that never seems to be enough.
I was at temple yesterday. A new statue was being presented, and Buddhist monks and nuns from the eastern part of the country had all attended the ceremony. I was just another person among 50 people in suits and shoeless, kneeling and chanting to the tempo of a gong and heavy drum. There were many pearl necklaces, diamond earrings, and expensive watches—it was tough to think that we were here promoting humility.
“Next time, it will be you,” she said after the service, insinuating that it was her job to marry me—like I was incomplete, wasting time—but more importantly that I wasn’t adequate enough to do the job myself. Let a professional handle the matter—that was what her wink said, and before that—I was even starting to like this old woman. There were two girls [they might have been somewhere in-between 18 to 25], and I use the term girl because their faces still looked like they hadn’t been pulled apart from hate or late night thinking. And I wanted to say something, but couldn’t—not because I was shy, but because I didn’t want to be him.
The man that is the reason you are the way you are—I understand it sounds egotistical, but it is not meant to be. A relationship never begins with the contention of hurting anyone, but it happens—we all realize that people fail us, we fail people. We’re soldiers coming back from a bad love, survivors wearing broken hearts. We take our break and we go back in when we feel like we the strength to take in another. Like I said, “I don’t want to be him,” the man that taught this truth.
One of the girls, wearing a Vietnamese long dress and tiger print purse, tripped into me—I caught her. I asked her if she was alright, she brushed herself off and said embarrassed, “Yes, I’m better for now.”
This entry was posted
on Monday, April 18 at 4:00 PM.
