Sunday 23 December 2007

To know and to love

To Know Him is to Love Him
Emmylou Harris, Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt

To know know know him
Is to love love love him
Just to see him smile
Makes my life worthwhile
To know know know him
Is to love love love him
And I do

I'll be good to him
I'll bring love to him
Everyone says there'll come a day
When I'll walk alongside of him
Yes just to know him
Is to love love love him
And I do

Why can't he see
How blind can he be
Someday he will see
That he was meant for me

To know know know him
Is to love love love him
Just to see him smile
Makes my life worthwhile
To know know know him
Is to love love love him
And I do

*
I am not so daring and dynamic as I thought I was. Some social interactions still leave me wondering what I should have done, and if what I actually did was right. Sometimes I get this insane urge to jump up and plant a small kiss on the cheek of the person I'm talking to, but I fear he or she might slap me, or think me too bold and too transparent. Then I wonder, what do I care that they do - for if they are to love me, then they'll have to love the spontaneous, unthinking, affectionate me. And by the time all the wondering's done, the moment would have past and my eyelids dropped too long to re-open any interpersonal connection.

If every action is willed, then I must be missing out on something, for I find it harder and harder to translate will into action, especially when it comes to dealing with others. I could sit and expire myself with hope, but it probably wouldn't change the fact that some of us walk our separate ways. Do you begin with a small desire, and sit and wait for them to act on a reciprocated feeling that might not exist? Or do you walk in and declare your intentions like foolhardy, sexually-charged boys do?

I feel desire like an embarrassing relative, who threatens to announce to the world my life's most intimate details. It is a constant battle - the twisting of knife-handles in backs, not against any offensive, grumpy aunt, but with the little voice that keeps calling me a blood traitor.

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