I have a different set of rules than most.
I’m at my most comfortable when I can be completely quiet, absorbed in myself, immersed in thought or un-thought.
It’s not a conceited absorption, rather an internal mechanism of sophisticated Swiss like clockwork that is perpetually movement based.
My inner workings need to feel the wrist pulse of solitude so I may exist, the need for the occasional vibration elicited by wavering of states. Elation and depression, advances and retreat, warmth and frost, albeit the epitome of it all is if I can experience it in the presence of another.
This is why I have but one real friend who can be near me but allows me to be far without expectation. Why I can be near him and let him also travel and be where ever he needs to be.
The only other person who can also be this way with me is my wife and I am protective of that, knowing full well, I would not be fit as a spouse for many other women who would demand – and it would be their right to – my attention.
I simply could not give them more attention than I am capable of, and there would still be no neglect on my behalf, but forever they would assume the worst of me, find me negligent, impatient to my brief moments where I’d share of myself……. share so intensely I would burn them to a crisp, leave them scarred and branded forever with my non present, presence.
If you don’t like scars, some people are best left to themselves, don’t play with fire if all you seek is a spark, don’t stand atop a volcanic mouth and dare it to erupt.
Let our furnaces burn, feel our warmth from a distance, know the cackling fire inside us burns alone but can keep the household warm if you stoke it when it needs to be stoked.