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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 4 of 4. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Susan47 on March 19, 2006, at 14:54:43
A day without you
is like a day without sunshine
How many days, weeks, months,
it's been raining so long.
Posted by Susan47 on March 21, 2006, at 15:42:11
In reply to A Day Without You, posted by Susan47 on March 19, 2006, at 14:54:43
I see your face in my head, I see your eyes watching me. I am connected to you in ways you know nothing about .. unless you were an angel, you would not know. You could not. Because a love like this is more real than life itself. More real than the memory of your voice, more real than you talking to me in that room, in that place ... I have you here, in my own way, and it's so unbelievably lonely and comforting at the same time, those two things, those two emotions ... they mate with each other, and become one melancholy. Sweet, though .. sweet melancholy. That is what you are, now. I wish you were more, I wish you could be .. hell, I wish you wanted to be, even, even that would have been better than nothing .. or would it? Why buy the cow when you can have the milk for free, free, Free, my dear, yes, this is free .. it only costs me my own time and money and you owe me nothing, nothing, Nothing ... who is there? A whole world if I want it to be.
In my mind.
A beautiful, dreadful place to be.
I love you.
No, not you .. You.
And the truth is that you're always beautiful to me, always .. even when you were being an unmentionable something. Something that I can be too. Something .. our power is unbelievable, when we believe in it. Why can't I believe in mine? Why do others, abuse theirs? What is abuse, really? What is it?
Posted by susan47 on April 10, 2006, at 13:27:23
In reply to Re: A Day Without You, posted by Susan47 on March 21, 2006, at 15:42:11
Here in this state, in this waxing and waning of emotion, this continual struggle for my own truth, my own reality .. here I see you, this old man, not you but ... the terrible one .. this person we call a father, an old man .. old man ... I'm so afraid for you. For your own lack of growth, for your own determination to be what you're so afraid of .. to allow me to be my own self, I'm a bloody fairy, old man, don't you SEE? CAN'T YOU SEE THE MAGNIFICENcE IN ME? I AM NOT WHAT YOU ARE. BUT I CAN BE LOVED IN SPITE OF YOU. .. no, not in spite of you ... you'll never love me, and I can understand that, because a part of you will always be disappointed that I wasn't what you wanted .. your limitations exceeded your visions ... you were too human, too weak when you should have been strong ... you never could love yourself, you don't know love at all. ANd when I think of you, old man, neither do I. So what shall I do now? I shall simply stop thinking of you.
Posted by susan47 on April 10, 2006, at 13:39:44
In reply to I know what it is, posted by susan47 on April 10, 2006, at 13:27:23
when I was a child, well I wasn't really, I was older than a child but younger than an infant, in my emotional state I've always been .. different, not there, not mentally focussed not all there, the learning always skewed, unbalanced, because of the constant refrain, the stress of hearing my name on your hateful lips, how dare you say my name with such ownership ...
Okay. I remember once when you were going through this thing, this attention-seeking little breakdown of yours, and you went through every GD photo album you could lay your hands on and you screwed with your image, you cut it out or you erased your hateful face, because at that time the truth was close to the surface, and you erased the truth as you erased your own face .. now I want to erase yours, as well. But not mine. I had a right to live then, and I have a right to live now.
Go away, old man. Do I mean "nothing" to you? That's fine, that's welcome, that's as it always was, that's how it finally can be right for me, now.
You were always too frail, too emotionally weak, to accept any weakness in me. And I almost allowed your gift to ruin my own life, and my children's lives, and their children's ... but I refuse to pass on the gift, I refuse to be as self-destructive as you. Unlike you, old man, I have myself to live for. From here, I can only pity you .. as one who watches me from another perspective, pities me. I pray one day that my pity can become more like compassion, freely given, freely received.
Mmmm-wah, old man. You silly old man, you silly-willy, you silly one, don't you realize the world won't know or care that you ever existed? Or I, or any of us?
Oh, maybe that is your problem. Or maybe, can I say this, that perhaps it is your lack of joy, and hope, and inner realized beauty, that makes you so.. mean.. emotionally and spiritually mean. If you only knew your outer image, if you could grasp others' real experience of you, you would be .. horrified, and amazed.
This is the end of the thread.
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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
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