Posted on | December 30, 2014 | No Comments
The reality in life is that people are almost always too close or too far away.
Proximity invites conflict. Distance invites loneliness.
Distance is yearning, hope and no arms around you when you sleep. With distance you can be selfish, you can own yourself so completely there is no other reality than the one that exists in your head. It can be perfect and you can revel in the pain of the perfectionist, of the idealist, holding onto what comes next, of what could be. It also means that you secure yourself against the world. The other is being witnessed in highs and lows, in strength and weakness, in feeling each moment so strongly you lose common sense, your misery so sharp you forget to notice where it falls into joy, where you are mood, where you are passing through agony and bliss so rapidly you forget the movement exists at all.You also will make mistakes. Many of them, many many of them. Some because you can’t escape your head. Others because you can’t read minds.
The point of these endeavors is to get close to people because ultimately the best moments and worst moments in your life involved other people. It becomes clear that you can’t do this without invading someone else’s space. You can’t do it flawlessly because they have built up their own routines for how life can be safe, how distance can feel as secure as a warm blanket. You’ll get in their way. They will get in yours. You will attempt to please them. With time this runs out and you become simply awkwardly yourself. Because there really is no other choice after awhile. And sometimes you won’t be fun. Sometimes you won’t be interesting. All you need to do is not pull away so far that you can’t come back.
Sometimes you won’t want to be held. Sometimes you’ll need it like a child does, because you can’t get close to someone else without first getting close to yourself. And being that close can hurt. You feel those wounds you’ve avoided by living shallow. By letting your life be dictated by trivial things, by defining your moments purely by following your interests and obsessions, imagining your humanity was simply a TV screen to be filled with the latest programs and your voice simply a laugh track and Facebook status to be shared with the world.
It feels like going insane. Everything seems to have meaning attached to it. Every second has weight. When you are in their orbit. And the meaning falls away and is replaced with some other mood. Some other gust of wind. And it’s capricious and unreasonable as the weather where the lightning that strikes you may have nothing to do with you. There is that amazing sensation where you hear the rain falling in cascades and you know they can’t go inside yet and you grab your kite instead of an umbrella. Because you know tonight they get struck by lightning and you aren’t willing to let them do it alone.
When people are far away they can be perfect and so can you. This is why unrequited love hurt you so badly as a child. This is why we mythologize reunions and hide relationships in entertainment. We want the closeness that comes with catharsis. We don’t want the process of breaking that leads to catharsis. It’s easier to be a friend than to be a lover. It’s easier to watch the Olympics than compete in it. When I’m single I give advice to my friends in relationships and think they’re insane. So wrapped up in small issues. So stuck in their own head. Going into crisis and emerging from it with no memory. As though each salvation was special. As though each step forward a high dive miracle.
It’s easy to see it as insanity when you aren’t inside it.
Sometimes I think people who don’t go crazy have run too far away from life. Sometimes I think that completely rational people are unable to poop.
The experiment makes no sense to the scientist. But here was what I realize when I’m inside it. When I am close enough to people that I put my self into jeopardy. Those moments when I am just close enough to people, when they sneak further inside me than I thought they could have come as a result of constant company. Years disappear with the world on my periphery. I don’t remember. It’s when things that messy I remember. Because time slows down when you are close. You can feel the pressure of being seen, of noticing your own racing heartbeat, your own speeding thoughts, you can’t be numb like this, no matter how much you drink, how much you smoke, how much you pretend, it hurts to be this close because every cell in your body is alive.
You have to risk people getting too close to have them get close enough.
Or to put it yet another way, how close you are to life dictates how quickly it passes, how fully you remember it, how much meaning people have for you. With distance time barely exists, your memories are flimsy when not granted weight by pain and hope. By allowing someone close you can experience the very nature of time change. Space dictates time.