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Indeed, artful friend, and I must confess it took me quite some time to realize that for many, their only acknowledgment of you is strictly to judge you, but not even you, because, as we know, so much of what people dislike in others is really what they dislike about themselves. Just ask any scapegoat. I was my father's and with all his uncontrolled anger, his daily wife-beating, his secret of making my older sister his lover for ten years, it's easy to see how he exorcised those demons of his into me. But as you say, most don't care enough even for that. Oh they might notice your appearance if it's on one of the extremes, otherwise our souls, like snowflakes, float about, uniqueness unseen, dancing as we fall to melt into the earth. Oh to melt on a boy's tongue, or rosy cheek, to make his eyes smile and swirl, all with just a happy look-at least a few boys I've known found something in me (and themselves?) that made them light up and let me care deeply for them. When I asked if I could hug them they didn't want to let go as though they experienced the same sense of utter peace in those embraces that went through me. We hugged-I kissed necks cheeks and ears-but I did not melt, but maybe our hearts did, just a little. On spins the world, though, and, as you say, dreams are free, whether day dreams or dreams in the night, whether rain drops or flakes of snow fluttering like feathers from an exploded pillow after an overly rambunctious pillow fight. Exactly such surrounds the house I am in. But I'm warm and do not think so much about all the strangers who care no more about me than I about them. When I close my eyes, I see the boys, those who found me, needed me, and wish more of that upon the world. I hope you don't mind my stream of consciousness response, coony. It struck me to reply and so I did. Stay close enough to that fire, to keep warm, keep alive, and +who knows what the flames reflecting in your eyes may conjure up! Cheerio! |