the unforgiven

i know this (among many other things) might sound really insecure, but whenever I send out a message–voice or email–to a friend who does not respond, i somehow convince myself that i have said or done something terribly, heinously and unforgivingly wrong. something really really bad and awful.

like yesterday. i sent a friend a glowing review of this performance i did in the ’90s because i thought she’d be curious. and usually she responds within seconds. but since i still have not heard from her, i am reasonably certain she saw it as arrogant and narcissistic. and then if i send her an apology, she’ll think it shows a lack of confidence, which has irritated her in the past. i could simply just not communicate at all until i hear from her. but that might come across as too aloof.

in spite of all of this, the quiet brain reminds me that even if i were arrogant, narcissistic, unconfident, and aloof, there are far worse things one can be or one could have done. it may take decades, but i am certain i will one day be forgiven.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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