Sometimes some things happen when you interact with people. No one wants it to happen but no one seems able to prevent it either. Things become irrepairable. In a drunken haze, or a panic induced one or confused one, the wrong words get said and the reactions come too fast.
Afterwards a sort of grayness sets in. You see everything on rewind for a bit. It's like the movie with that trick ending as you try to make sense of it. You toggle between the varying stages of guilt, blaming yourself and accusing them, and ultimately you just resign yourself. There's not too much that you can really say.
Maybe, I think, if people didn't always talk around what they really meant, there wouldn't be such a need for these things. Maybe if we were all more honest, our reactions would be more pure. Instead you say too much in a storm but it's still talking around what you mean. Everyone wants to be interpreted, no one wants to be the interpreter.
After awhile you recognize this path before. Sometimes months pass and you'll be sitting in a bar and you talk and make like it's okay. Sometimes it's better for awhile, sometimes it's even better for good and these nights turn into long caffeinated discussions of everything that enters each of your brains. But this is the exception, not the norm. More often than not, it all gets endured with tension, pointlessly and mindlessly or people fade out of view and maybe you'll recollect with a smile once you've moved to another city until you remember how that chapter ended.
Who was it that originally pointed out the precariousness of human interactions, where it will take long spans of time to solidify a friendship but a word, or a sentence or an evening can destroy it? People seem more like silhouettes sometimes, just sliding in and out of view. There's so many things that are never said but more often than not, it's not the good things that get blurted out, it's the bad ones. Where do these tendencies towards self destruction come from?
Ever have that feeling of the other shoe waiting to fall? When it does you expect to feel relief. But it doesn't usually turn out that way, it usually results in an embittering sort of clarity where you didn't need to walk in the falling shoe's path to begin with.
Today, I took my "disjointed thoughts" section down. It was this not really poetry, not really prose catharsis project of mine...but as I looked at it today I thought maybe I didn't need something to train me in those instinctual, cathartic outpourings. Maybe if I don't spend so much time on that, I'll learn when to keep my fucking mouth shut.