Immersiveness
<<2003-10-13 - 12:53 a.m.>>

I think it's true.

I have a renewed sense of my own picturesqueness, which is what I pass off as confidence. I have taken up this word by chance. I mean also "immersiveness"—the ability to lose oneself in oneself and one's own day to day.

I mean that I am immediate, I am now and here and current and right away, that things with me tend to be transient (sometimes, for now, maybe). Right now I feel immersive, which to some extent proves the point and to some extent means that it can't ever be proved.

I'm very glad I don't write like Claire's ex.

It again seems to be true that it's ultimately all about one's own immersion in oneself, that the more I absorb myself in my own life the more it fills in its own shades and grading.

Because I'm an interesting girl when I'm not filled full of furious self-pity. When I am, though—then I am not so interesting, I think. Then I lose my best qualities and become many of the things I prefer not to be. Self-obsessed without real reflection.

I'm not beautiful. I know that. And I don't have that thing, the whatever-it-is behind by eyes that make them, and me, magnetic. My melancholy isn't poetic. I won't ever bring people adoring and worshipping. I'm not one of those girls built to be goddesses. And yes, knowing that makes me sad. Knowing that makes me really sad.

But I'm straightforward and I'm honest. I'm faithful, empathetic. I'm capable of depth of feeling and thought. I'm reflective. I have a great big old sense of wonder that sometimes seems like it's going to eat me up. I'm hoping I'm the girl someone's been looking for. I'm hoping that sometimes that someone can be me.

I am really going to have to come to terms with this business of only being my extremely humble self, to whom people do not write back and about whom they do not wonder or write poems.

<< - >>