I have known men; lovers who have said to me, “you are the strongest person I’ve ever known,” and they did not mean physically; for in that I am feeble; and they ask, “how do you keep going?” and so, gone on to ask, “why do you?”
And while I hear their admiration in their tone, I have felt the kick within my gut —which I know they had not consciously given to me
would they have me quit my life, I’ve wondered; do they feel my life thus far was not at all worth living for?
But I would not let myself ever prod deeper in that question I’ve asked myself
because I know I would fear the answer
and then ….I’d give up
has it been worth it….
as they say it I suppose I feel such disappointment in that very vague sense
because ….this is a very lonely road to travel so long alone with those long spent lovers behind who had not lived up to their might and promise
And still I do not look too deeply ….but I find the whispered hidden question of my own begin to infiltrate my faith onward
why…. why indeed
“I think it is that you are just too stubborn to give up,” is Jackson’s theory
I think often of that girl’s memories; the landscapes as she walked; the man from her own land she left behind; the horizon she gazed off to ….and the man on the boat as the wind and the water whipped back his hair; that frozen, ice cold island; that hut
her life had such few options as a female ….to choose a life as female seems to double every single challenge without succumbing fully to submission for the ‘stronger’ sex
Those memories of that life which seemed to re-emerge in my mind during my illness with mononucleosis during a deep fever and it was after those dreams had begun to come to me that I found myself in Dr. Rothschild’s office
A psychiatrist soon to retire with un-conservative curiosities to try out some of her own experiments with minds as her need to conform seemed no longer necessary in her profession; female or not, she had reached the top of her own field and for this she had gained my respect and—another reason too; she was not willing to go along the views blindly of her status que peers
When she regressed me…. it opened up further that channel to scenes that belonged to a mind not akin to my present life
She opened a doorway that —up until that point in my life…. I had intentionally been hiding from ….but seemed to somehow plague my deepest subconsciousness
Sometimes when I’m walking ….it is something about the swing and rhythm of my hips as I walk; I can feel the weight of such heavy baggage on my back weighing me down ….and my eyes shift to the horizon as though I still search for that ship long sailed ….away
and I tell myself ….I missed the boat
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