and I am in my element now. Not that it came naturally, rather, a product of circumstances. A finely honed element. That of denial. I don't think I'll put down the previous post, after all. It might stay there, it might.

a gritting of the teeth, knowing that you have put your hand to the yoke and cannot turn back. I learnt on saturday that sometimes, denial is a way to leave the situation with your head held high. I've always known that intuitively, I think. Not that I could explain, even at fifteen, why I would rather have died than gone back and tried to settle for something less so that my heart would be satisfied. There are some things worth sacrificing, even if it feels nothing like that at that point in time. I think I will never believe in emotions.

There's much to be said about the topic, all in different ways, even in ways that will inadvertently reveal more than I would mean to in the course of my attempt to theorise. Did you know that tears drops evaporated leave a visible imprint, a risen up dried layer of water that shines in the reflected light. It's like glue, only that that's a clumsy [if accurate] remark. I'd not like to think that the hard torn product of vulnerability wrung out of me is something as contemptous as glue. And it isn't. It's salt. I don't have crystals of salt on my tabletop though; that's too complicated an image, and too tactile.
What I have is a thumbprint of my heart, much like a mark of Cain.

Sometimes it's okay to be in denial, because what you are denying, is deceit. [Interesting, that they both start with "de". Wonder if tracing the etymological roots would reveal anything.] And I'd rather hug bearbear alone at night and feel the face wrentch in reaction to the fierce retaliation of the heart telling me that I am foolish, and that the sappy love songs will come true if I were to just -pause- follow my heart. I'd rather sit alone in a corner of the wall and despite my best efforts, hear a cry escape because my insides have grown bigger than the measurements my body has been built as. All these, than to settle for something less than what I believe it's worth. And I will hold very tenaciously to what I believe are of value. I know the descriptions are dramatic, but do you dare tell me they are not true? I am writing truth! There are few more miserable things in life than to live in deceit. And the fearful thing is, sometimes, deceit can go on. And it does bring happiness; happiness is a feeling that has become of little worth in today's consumerist world where to be is to have. So what if I am proud? I'd rather be proud than a slave to wiles.

The remnants of that tear will stay where it fell.