I was born to hustle roses

The only thing I can think to liken it to is the sensation you have when you’re on a stationary train, and a train on the next platform along starts moving. For a moment, you can’t tell whether or not it’s actually your train moving, but once you’ve figured it out you can force your brain to switch between the two perspectives and trick yourself into thinking you’re on a moving train. And, in my head, we – you and I – are in our own little world on this train together, one that doesn’t have a whole lot of realness about it and is actually just me sitting in my room all alone, while in reality you – just you – are on the train that is already miles away by now. I switch between the two, but I’m continually aware of both.

That’s still not quite right, though… It’s missing something. Or maybe it’s just a very inelegant way of putting it.

It’s so rare to find someone who even vaguely understands. I don’t want to have to hold back or turn it down. You know more secrets about me than literally anyone else on this planet does. I feel a bit silly.

I don’t want to be to you like the others are to me.
I remain, consistently, a hypocrite.

11 thoughts on “I was born to hustle roses

  1. I get it… but it might be more like the sensation with trains, only they both move, one after the other, leaving you and me standing on opposite sides of the station. Perhaps we were (and still may be) going to different places, but for the moment, we share an experience.

    1. That’s a really nice analogy. The sensation itself is the important part in what I wrote though – for now, at least. Everything is in my head, and I flit between realities of aloneness and togetherness. Maybe one day life will have us alighting trains in the same station at the same time, but right now it’s all a daydream.

        1. Definitely. I need to know there are other people there, but I find being around them just completely drains me after a while. It makes friendships hard, sadly.

          1. I totally get that. And small talk makes it worse. It’s as though people sense that I have energy, and they come take it. I like people, but I like to retreat and regroup.

          2. Don’t get me wrong, I do like people. I just get overwhelmed by too many interactions and my natural reaction is to hide myself away for a while. And small talk definitely makes things worse!

          3. Yes! Just one or two people for a meaningful conversation is my preference. The more people there are, the smaller the talk, and the more I want to leave.

          4. Absolutely. And I don’t understand the kind of people who constantly need to have others around them. It would break me.

  2. I imagine myself quite often seeing others from afar. It is like peeking into their soul if you will. Strange analogy and prob has nothing to do with what you speak of, but it strongly correlates with certain aspects of my life.

    See when I read something someone has written, particularly if they are writing about life for example, I see that person. It is like a dream I guess. It feels very real. I’m doing a terrible job of explaining things.

    Mm…it is tricky to explain.

    Have you ever met someone in a dream only to later meet them in real life?

    It is kind of like that. People impart things in words, but also in life. It is like a residual emotion, an imprint of a memory if you will. It is like glimpsing that moment in time is a good way of explaining it.

    It feels like you are observing that moment in time, the emotions, everything about where they were in that moment, as though you are living it.

    Depending on the person and the situation, commonly it feels like a dream where you are observing this person, these moments, although it can also be as though I were sitting there, the soul in question and I simply conversing.

    I like your analogy about the train. I’ll stop here. I should prob get going for now.

    Cheers! ๐Ÿ™‚

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