Date: Wed, 09 Oct 1996 08:19:38 -0400
To: Carolyn L Burke 
From: louern@vif.com

I am starting to see someone who won't let others in,
who hides in her own creations of reality;
who may leave her thoughts for all to see;
but often doesn't see her true feelings.

Who needs lots of love from those around her,
but doesn't like to admit it.
Who thinks that keeping everything inside
is doing herself a favor.
Who truly believes that the centre of the universe is where we put it.

Because when I read this...

" If I was more at home, I'd think that it would just feel good. But as I am not, what can I do in these circumstances? I don't want to get to know people. There are millions of people I might bump into, and I like some of them. But truly and honestly why should I want to meet them? They are usually normal, predictable. Sometimes they are unusual. And always they are people. I want to meet those who will capture my imagination taking me to the stars or the presidency with their own life experience. And I do meet these persons. I fail to cross examine them as many might. Really I should find out what a person's strength is and tease out from them the life those strengths create. People watching has long been on the back burner. Perhaps the teasers of exciting alternatives I have not achieved myself might make a threadable theme in a social sit. Just maybe.

I went happily with a friend to a party last night, and there I met everyone, and tried to flow smoothly through. I realized I had nothing to contribute except my sly quietness clothed in attractive body parts. Since I know this is the least of my possible contributions, I wondered why my better ones stayed submerged. And I know why, and still I find there must be a better answer here than this. Quippy back talk. Nothing generated. My generations are long winded, or deep. Nothing benign up the superficial ladder with lighthearted gaiety and conversational niceties. Without hobbies, and similarly without a desire to speak of my own life as it is actually exists, I find I am a soggy rag in a social event, a person others must draw out. Only the sleazoids are sufficiently motivated by the body parts to try more often then not. "


...I am reading about me.

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