Dec 21, 2017

Two things

Once, a long long time ago, I met a man who told me things I have not yet been able to forget.  These things number two.  The first was that, upon closer inspection, I was not what he had expected.  Knowing what I am, I wonder what he thought he saw, in me.

The other was that I stood up straight, so incredibly straight.

I often times fail to understand what he meant, until I hit that inevitable failure, of which there seem many as of late, and I find myself facing an uncomfortable truth, or a difficult problem, with this steadfast confidence that I can figure it out.  This feeling, this unfazedness, comes from the same place that a ramrod back does.

There's no reason for this ramrod straightness, that sometimes I'm convinced is more an output of unbearable pride than any self-borne assuredness.  I would not call myself confident. Cocky -- perhaps?

It is a thing, a something, though I don't know what, that keeps me upright, some underlying sensation of tension and relaxation. It is both a flight from the pain of slouching and also a self-flagellation of rigidity.  It feels brittle.  It feels steadfast.



Once, a long long time ago, I met a man who told me things I have not yet been able to forget.


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