4am musing over relationships

I know I am not sharing interesting words other than my inner thoughts. Which suddenly struck me as being way over the top. But it seems I have acquired the habit so I keep doing it. So I shall label this a writing instead. Whatever. It has more depth than the contents of my day.

I sit here, actually into tomorrow around 4am. Mulling over the people I've met these last three months. How quickly I have changed with each passing day. I can see my instability diminishing, and my uncertainty rising.

In continuing my conversation about sex with the coolest man I've ever met from April, I am painting a different window for myself. I'm not sure what it means yet or if I can stomach it, but woe are these sleepless nights.

windowing

A scene on a television show, two long run characters suddenly, and annoyingly have a surprise sex scene. Good god was that not really necessary. Unspoken words give way to boisterous action. I see their choices as selfishly creating the "window" for their relationship. Zooming out, I reimagine every relationship as having a separate window for their togetherness. The trick is whether this window can coexist in other settings. Can the two people exist in a party with many people without causing conflict with all the other windows. Another scene a character is asked what the worst thing they ever did was. They replied with "pretending to love someone, in a way, was the worst".

I perceive every misplaced kiss to avoid conflict, every 'shut the fuck up' sex night as daggers against the throat. Every celebratory hug, every cuddle when feelings hurt, as kindling to an ever burning fire. Provide enough heat and someone will withstand the threats. Provide no heat and you will likely lose. Provide no threat and many will become scrupulous.

It's that look when you see two people enter a different world when they are together. Or even when simply steeling a kiss within the crowd. That window has qualities of separateness. But maybe only in that moment. For in different moods we choose to acknowledge these windows in unique ways. Or at least it should be flexible right? If it was only one way wouldn't that be boring? Or dangerous?

hmmm

If I am still being too crpytic I will try to simplify. I hope I succeed.

Consider the difference between your friends and loves. Ponder when you decide someone is friend or love. Is it immediately? Does it build over time? Has a friend ever turned to a lover? Or a lover into a friend? When does love become in-love? What are the differences between them?

Compare all that to the relationship you have with your co-workers. Do they build the same way as your other relationships? If not, how so? Have co-workers ever become true friends? or lovers?

These connections we build with others all have their unique qualities. A bridge between two people. Both actively particpate or not in its construction or destruction. Like art, never finished, merely abandoned.

The meat

I can paint myself as someone struggling to understand my self. Who am I? In these relationships I build, I am unable to be the same person for each bridge. Personality always shifting, you never really see me. But, as one could say, but a reflection of you.

Sometimes I paint my pain as the issue. My glass prison keeping me from crossing the bridge, or ever really doing a good job at construction me end of it. If you engage, I can engage back. Left to my own devices my battle with pain is my only true love.

I have a tattoo on the back of my hand. My birth initials etched into the moon which is encased by the sun with lightning bolt rays. You cannot see the moon without the sun and I am always in the shadow of the moon. You don't see me. Or maybe I don't see me. Someone only recently pointed out that the lighting bolt rays were likely my expression of the physical pain I carry. Something I'd prefer to believe.

I got this at 16 years old. Why did I do that? Did I know exactly who I was at that point? Or have I left myself become that symbol?

The rest of my life stifled, crippled, by my choice to find who I am. My hormone replacement therapy for my sex dysphoria dramatically increases my pain. After three years, two geneticists, on endocrinologist, two osteopaths, three physical therapists, two primary care, and many experiments with dosing and blood work, it must be confirmed. How am I supposed to dismantle the glass prison which I am choosing to strengthen every day I take my medications?