Understandings and Misunderstandings

So it is easy to misinterpret. There are so many ways to look at a thing that has been said, especially when the thing is turned over and picked at and played with till it is smooth and devoid of its initial context. So please assume I meant it like that unless I specifically tell you otherwise.

The good thing about fucking is that it is not open to misinterpretation. I miss the clean friendships that were communicated in my clean, naked bedroom. I miss the lack of explanation, the easily communicated burn of desire. This other thing, this intimacy of words is complicated. I have not mastered it. I turn away from a conversation and I think maybe my brutal honesty was not clear enough. Maybe there was a hint of subtext when there is no subtext, maybe I should have added subtext to make me seem less shallow, more mysterious.

If only I could remove my skin and press the bloody mess of my organs into your understanding. If only you were me, or in my head, or could see inside me, x-ray vision and all my thoughts cut out and spilled on the ground like dropped fruit. If only this were a world where we could just fuck willy-nilly, the easy communication of the act, the "I love you like this" which leaves no room for the complexities of human emotion.

But it was never like that, was it? It was always 'he said, she said' and a Chinese whispering of hands and genitals and little fish kisses heavy with misunderstandings. So we must struggle on with all of this hearsay and gossip coming from our own mouths and trickling into our own ears and hope that somewhere amongst it all there will be some small connection and we will wake up feeling just fine and potentially optimistic.