Private Embarassment.
2002-11-11 - 2:32 p.m.
* Since I'm so tri-fo-lin! *
I keep remembering. I can't forget. His touch. His stare. His voice. His hands... They stay with me at all anys: annytime, anyplace, any thought. Every thought. When I didn't have him on my mind, I was so dedicated. Now that my thoughts are clouded, I feel so lost. I've lost my grasp.
I think about how he softened me. I cared for him because he helped to remember that I was and, in turn, feel like a woman. Nurturing. Caring. Worrying. Comforting. That was me. I felt his pain, his sadness. I could sense it. I tried to change it. I felt good about my work. It wasn't work. It was... I dare not say what it was. I will not.
It's my heart. It's hard. A classmate told me today that my heart was hard after a reaction I had to an individual we were studying. I laughed it off but I was truly embarassed. It's a personal embarassment. The kind where only you know that you are embarassed and only you know the reason for your own embarassment. Only you know, or feel, like your secret has been completely and absoutely exposed. But your face remains unchanged. Only your eyes say what has just happened. And still, nobody could know. Nobody but you.
So it festers until you get to your private place where you can privately grieve about the private embarassment you experienced in the privacy of your private thoughts.
Damn, class calls...