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Audrey Semprun, 26 Apr '15

Transparent and Porous


I haven’t been writing. I thought that I was too busy. Too tired. Maybe even too bored. After reading an incredibly well written and moving piece I am beginning to understand what’s been going on. It’s me. Me against me.

I’ve been too porous in a world that is concrete; a world that hides behind windows darkly. A world that looks through me, instead of into me. And me? I see me. I am me. I am transparent. I am vulnerable. But worst of all, or best of all I am porous. I live life. I absorb being. I am loud. I am quick to speak. I chat. I talk. I talk a lot. Talk a lot. I like that line. Not for what it says, but how it says it.

I think. I breathe. I am.

I am alive. I am living. I am breathing. I am screaming, “Hey, Look at me! Care!”

And there-in lies the problem. It’s finding that part. The caring part.

Who really gives a rip? Who is it that is willing to take an interest in a life time of trying? A lifetime of caring? A lifetime of rejection. A lifetime of giving. Yes. Giving. Of reaching out to the unlovely. Of reaching out to the un-noticed. Of reaching out.

And as I reach out I take from deep within. I pour me out. I empty myself as a glass of understanding. As a glass of compassion. As a glass of care.

But what? Wait. Look. There I am. Shattered. Again. Not as miss-understood mind you, but as discarded. Like one of those disposable Dixie cups. Or maybe even one of those Red party cups. But no. Wait. That is not me. I shatter.

But lose heart? No. I refuse. Pass the bottle please. It’s time for another round.