when all the wires are crossed

I tend to put too much emphasis on communication. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and want people to know what I'm thinking and feeling... so that, knowing that, you might know me.

It's folly, I'm well aware, but I also feel like once honest, open feelings have been exchanged the basis for a friendship has been laid: I've opened my book for you, you've opened yours for me -- to some degree we now 'know' each other. Of course, I depend on the honesty of my correspondent (again, folly, yes, I know), but such is my manner. I don't have the energy to imagine that people are liars... they have to prove it to me.

I find the internet particularly satisfying for the purpose of connecting with people, as stupid as that may sound. But such distractions as appearances don't come into play -- thought is distilled into simple sentence structure and set down for careful appriasal and response. Yes, photographs can be exchanged -- but such never begins to approach the sort of intimacy that looking into anothers' eyes provides. Such distance can be a good thing in getting to 'know' another living, breathing, thinking being.

Thus I find it tremendously frustrating when such communication fails... when, despite my best effort, my would-be pen pal hasn't the faintest fucking clue what I'm trying to get across, or what I expect them to somehow communicate in return. The experience leaves me flummoxed in a way that almost nothing else does. I want, even need, to be understood -- I'm confident in my ability to clearly communicate.

When that fails -- well shit.

Know what I mean?