I am selfish and self-centered I know. But I can\’t help but focus onto what I feel. How I feel the pain. And why can\’t it be me first?
Yesterday evening, I was sitting next to him. His hands on my thighs. Sitting cross-legged as in a campfire, but an intimate one. As he told a story, he gestured with expression. His face contorted in pain during the difficult parts. And occasionally during the appalling moments, he put his hands on my arms and lightly shake me as if to emphasize the story. But I was mesmerized by his ability to capture the moment. More that I was reacting toward him rather than the story he was telling.
Then when he finished the story, completing the ending, he asked me what I wanted to be. To do.
And suddenly, it hurt. A feeling that I brought upon myself–a selfish feeling–of my own disappointment and failure of myself. I was always passive and shy–never taking the obvious paths as a result of fear, but I want to overcome it. My eyes filled with tears. That what I wanted, I never got. I turned away, not letting him notice. He never did notice in the dimly lit room.
He was just so happy that I was there. That he seemed so much happier at work. Was it all me? Did I make that influence?