Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Revisiting

She stands back, apart from herself, watching the thoughts coalesce. She sees them as she would see someone else's life. Scenes - colourful, picturesque events - happening as though they were a movie with a narrator talking unceasingly about one character's thoughts, feelings and motives.

One character. Herself.

She's not sure she likes this blend of her past and present. It's discomfiting, the way everything seems to flow so easily together until it's all a blur.

She wishes she could pause, let one idea roll around her mind, taste it and absorb it before moving on, but it refuses to be stilled, flowing seamlessly into the next image from something so irrelevant that it's a strain to try and find logical sequences in this train of thought.

Faces of old loves flash through her mind, sharing space with the awkward fumbling of lust-driven caresses. She remembers trying to stifle her laughter at the ridiculousness of the whole thing, knowing that she wouldn't be able to deal with the hurt and lack of comprehension in his eyes.

She sees it all again, as she did then, detached, aloof, refusing to surrender all of herself to the heat, the sweat, the urgency of the moment. She watches herself watch them, a story within a story.

She hears the commentary in her head and wonders if it's like that for him. Evaluating it critically, she doesn't think so. He appears lost in the growing tension between them. She knows she's in control and doesn't want to be. She wants him to force her out of herself. To make her stop thinking, stop judging them, debating the rights and wrongs of what they're doing - just to force herself to let go and to drown in the mindless passion that should be consuming them both.
She feels the tension growing, drawing her inescapably toward climax and wonders how she can still think -why she still can't let go. And then it's done.

Physically sated, she's still left with a gnawing sense of discontent - a nagging sensation that something wasn't quite right.

The thoughts run on, exploring other avenues, digging up old questions. She can't sleep.

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