I’ve been rereading your story. I think it’s about me in a way that might not be flattering, but that’s okay. We dream and dream of being seen as we really are and then finally someone looks at us and sees us truly and we fail to measure up. Anyway: story received, story included. You looked at me long enough to see something mysterioso under all the gruff and bluster. Thanks. Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.
Interpretation
This quote reflects on the complexities of perception and intimacy in relationships, revealing how vulnerability often leads to deeper understanding.
In this quote, Richard Siken delves into the intricacies of human connection and self-perception. He expresses the idea that we all strive to be truly seen and understood by others, yet fear that our true selves might not meet the expectations we have of ourselves or that others hold. The act of getting close to someone often reveals hidden depths, and sometimes, this closeness leads to new realizations about both oneself and the other person. Ultimately, it is a reflection on the beauty and challenge of intimacy, where vulnerability plays a critical role in genuine connection.
In practice
This quote can be used in a discussion about the nature of relationships during a counseling session.
All night I streched my arms across him, rivers of blood, the dark woods, singing with all my skin and bone ''Please keep him safe. Let him lay his head on my chest and we will be like sailors, swimming in the sound of it, dashed to pieces.'' Makes a cathedral, him pressing against me, his lips at my neck, and yes, I do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars.
I'm saying your name in the grocery store, I'm saying your name on the bridge at dawn. Your name like an animal covered with frost, your name like a music that's been transposed, a suit of fur, a coat of mud, a kick in the pants, a lungful of glass, the sails in wind and the slap of waves on the hull.
You are playing cards with three Jeffs. One is your father, one is your brother, and the other is your current boyfriend. All of them have seen you naked and heard you talking in your sleep. Your boyfriend Jeff gets up to answer the phone. To them he is a mirror, but to you he is a room.
Everything affects my poetry, every day something happens that changes me forever. I’m susceptible and plastic, thin-skinned and moody.
how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple to slice into pieces. Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it's noon, that means we're inconsolable. Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us. These our bodies, possessed by light. Tell me we'll never get used to it.
You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back.
But I remember one thing:_x000D_ _x000D_ it wasn't me that started acting deaf;_x000D_ _x000D_ it was people that first started acting like_x000D_ _x000D_ I was too dumb to hear or see or say anything at all
I loved my parents... but that can never change the fact that my father's violence ruined my childhood.
It must be awful to feel you're not needed.
We tried so hard. We were always trying to help each other. But not because we were helpless. He needed to get things for me, just as I needed to get things for him. It gave us purpose. Sometimes I would ask him for something that I did not even want, just to let him get it for me. We spent our days trying to help each other help each other. I would get his slippers. He would make my tea. I would turn up the heat so he could turn up the air conditioner so I could turn up the heat.
She liked to disappear, even when she was in the same room as other people. It was a talent, as it was a curse.
But with a sigh he had released her hand, while she was so lost in the fantasy that she hadn't felt it go away, as if he'd known the best moment to let go.
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