Lost in Translation

Sometimes I worry that all that I feel, what I want to say, and what I actually say is lost in the space between my heart and the words that come out on the page...or just out of my mouth - especially after a glass or two of wine. And then, to make matters worse, there's how the other person interprets the words and body language, through their own lens, experience, past, etc. Do we really hear each other? Can we feel each other, without that scared, protective wall coming up? Without rules and judgments and shame?

I wish we could sit down together and talk...really talk, alone, honestly, without anyone around to shape the words, and with clear heads and hearts to hear and feel what's really said. But will that ever happen?

I wonder what you think of me. Do you think I'm awful, shallow, stupid, silly, untrustworthy? Or do you think I'm deep, complex, caring, and sensitive, but perhaps a bit too ruled by my feelings? It shouldn't matter to me, but it does. Everything matters in your presence. Because all I do is worry that who I am and what I say is lost in translation, along with you. And something inside can't seem to let go. It doesn't matter what is, or what you say, or all the obstacles in the world, or how impossible it all seems, or how insane I feel. 

It scares me.

I feel connection and resistance, connection and resistance...resistance, resistance, confusion, guilt, elation, all at once until it nearly kills me. I fight it sometimes and then just want to laugh it off. And then I say things and worry later that I've hurt you, when that's the last thing I ever want. Perhaps I'm just looking for proof of something. But I'm fully there, taking it all in, laughing and loving and enjoying the moment. And it's all in the moment, being contained... just barely. I enjoy studying you, your complexity, your contradictions, and trying to figure out if there's anything I've lost on my side of the translation. Am I just the dumb girl who doesn't get it? Or doesn't want to? I wonder about the story behind each line in your sweet face and wish you could sit and tell me. If only I could capture your darting chocolate eyes for just a few moments and drink them in as I melt in the midday heat.

I'm so sorry. I wish I could be different. It seems so easy for you. Like in a blink of an eye, swoosh...resistance. It doesn't work that way for me, but maybe someday. Please be patient with me and whatever gets lost in translation between us.