Distant Voices: C. Scott Ananian

I'm losing my identity.

I am a loner. That's who I am.
I can't...

I'm becoming half of a pair. That's not me. That's not who I am.
*You're* not who I am. I am I. A christian. Follower of Christ.
A hard worker. Productive. Bright. Maybe somewhat aloof.
A stalker of quiet night spots for contemplation. Contemplative, that's
me. In the corner booth, alone, scribbling madly. Woeful words, mostly.

And recently I've had nothing but trite happinesses to write about.
Not that I've had time to write.

You've filled my life. With you. Leaving none of me left.
You're taking over my soul. Corrupting me, you say. I agree,
sometimes. Eating away at my essence. Who I am. I am I. Not you.

I love you. I long for you. You complete some primal circuit in my soul.
A hand to hold, a partner in life. Instigation to my insanity.
The person who will drive me to meteor observation. I am unmotivated alone.
You provoke me. Excite me. Fill me. Listen to me. An ear to hear
what I am, to see who I am, to mirror me so I can see myself.

Someone to share life with. My enjoyments doubled in you. A companion
for Brecht. A meteor-watcher. A lightning-maker. A midnight snacker.

I walk down the street with you in my hands, your hand in mine, and I
feel complete. Happy. Everything is doubled.

But it's not right. Not quite right. A jarring note. I'm losing myself.
Losing my soul.

That twisted knot at the center of our unhappiness. Fundamentally unshared.
Driving us apart when we're closest together. I will not lose it. I cannot
lose it. It is who I am, what I dream for, for whom I strive.

I sing songs to my god, and am happy. You stand silent. Frowning. Upset.

I love you, but this cannot go on.

I am not brave enough to tell you that.

-- csa, 21-nov-1998. 1:20am
-- discoveries made while folding laundry --