Katrin Greene’s Smashed Potatoes 2020 11 16

I say this with love. And realize this is, actually, my drama. And I realize this is written for more than one person, too. Four months to four years.

I do feel your absence. I wish I didn’t. I wish I could learn not to feel, but I’ve been that person before and I am always caught between the drama of mess and the cold of numb.

Yes. Obsidian. You are the only one that ever really got that.

I miss the would be laughter. I wish I didn’t feel like this. I know it’s my hurt. I know I left myself open to that hurt. But, honestly, I don’t know what could be more human. Kane Brown has a song “What if?” I love it. It’s right up there with my three other favorite songs. While it is romantic, in nature, I mean it for all the ways I love people. “What if?” And unfortunately, I feel like I’m the only one that says it.

I had to learn how to deal with being shy. I *am* a private person. I do have walls. Very, very hard walls, and SHB, *you* are one of two that ever understood that.

Gods above and below, I miss you and your wackiness. After four years, it still hurts. I still feel the loss of you and I wish to hell I didn’t.

The thing is, with each of you, image. That’s what killed it. Image. What looks like, instead of what is. The drama of double meanings and not speaking clearly so that you can never be wrong and I feel nothing but confused and hurt. Yes, my problem, based on something within you. I will never live under that shadow again, even though I feel and will forever feel these things. I never learn. I always wonder if I should.

I see wonderful things under those masks. Aspects that, while someone else may not care for them, I love or enjoy or connect very well with. That’s the loss I feel.

So, tonight, it’s moonlight sonata. Because, while I feel the pain, deep pain and loss, I also know the sting of rejection and hurt would be worse, if I try to connect again.

There is no bridge. No way to bridge. Because that does take two. The thing is, there are too many misunderstandings for me to reach out and I can’t bridge on my own. Not without losing who I am. And if you love who I am, why do you ask me to be what I am not? Why ask me to chase after you, when you would not? Why ask me to leave a door open, when you do not? I had to learn a great many things, that you either do not or did and just don’t care. I don’t even know what to say. Which is why I understand, this is, really, my problem.

And for the least issue, out of these four, the one from August this year? You didn’t bother to get to know me, and you are right up there in the confusion level with the three people I love quite dearly. I wish to hell that I could have just walked out, in March. I wish I didn’t see your damned bike everywhere. Or the logo. Or the hawks, which you couldn’t have any idea what that is, anyway. There are things I would have said to you. I speak plainly. It isn’t to hurt or humiliate. Just the opposite. I don’t like causing this kind of hurt in others, what I’m feeling at the moment. I know. Not your problem. I see your own confusion, hurt, feelings of isolation, rejection, and loneliness. I see you trying to connect with others, and that you fall on your face a lot, even though you are excellent at covering. The thing is, they aren’t worth your time and you *are* trying to be something you are not.

The funny thing is? That is why I get hurt. Because, I do see, under those things. What I see is wonderful. You may not expect that. I also know? It isn’t up to me to dig that out of you. I’m worth more than that, and so are you. It’s not the first time I’ve said that.

I am going to sit here, with this pain and loss, and feel it. Because it should be felt. It should be respected and care for. Each of you are human beings to me, even if you don’t act like it. It is my drama and I have to deal, one way or another. I miss you. I will continue to miss you. And I will continue to be grateful that the drama is contained. I can’t fix this. Whatever it is. I would have helped carry it, even if it wasn’t really my mess in the first place. That is the hardest lesson I ever had to learn. I’m still learning it, I guess.