ive noticed a common thread among other queers in my circles. we’re lucky to know and find each other, which i think about often, and our most common desire is becoming something not expectedly human. Franz Kafka has written two small bits which contribute beautifully to what i’m trying to speak of... only one i can quote directly, that being “I never wish to be easily defined. I’d rather float over other people’s minds as something strictly fluid and non-perceivable; more like a transparent, paradoxically iridescent creature rather than an actual person” ...the other of the two being “Please—consider me a dream,” which a young Kafka had gently, softly said to a friend’s father he’d accidentally woken up.
i might talk about this in a different length, but i often wish i were a fog or dream to people. i feel genuine dread and horror at the fact that people have old perceptions of me they will not shake; i am bound by memory. i do not care so much about that in itself: i care about being reminded of it in conversation. there’s a terror deep within me knowing that i am, like everyone else, a human being in constant flux, yet there are some people refusing to admit that, to come to terms with the flux and abandoning previous perceptions unless legitimately applicable. i feel à terror that these perceptions may follow me, forever stuck as another’s vision of my self. i wish to be a fog. i near beg, at the very least, that those more stubborn begin to understand the inherent flux of anyone capable of thought; all of us. flux has no moral guide of being inherently “good” or not, but it is one of the sole, consistent truths of human development. being content then hungry, a simple animal impulse, is flux. it’s always here, regardless of what it looks like. i’m hyper-aware of my flux, thus heightening my anxiety tenfold. i’m very tired of this.... to veer off a bit, around a year ago i read a quote which terrified me, some which asked (albeit more eloquently) how one would react to meeting someone who was able to cut to the core of them, to see everything. i know i would feel such anguish and anxiety around them, though quietly... being known of so intensely, even if truly or beautifully, frightens me as well as the olden perceptions. Richard Siken said something along the lines of “trying to explain myself in an understandable way.” i do that everyday, and it’s a difficult practice that can only pay off for a small period, of at all. i’ve been daydreaming instead of becoming a fog of person like i had all last year, of finally facing this terror of being known to the core, of being perceived so vividly, and facing it with love. it’s been a liberating practice. the “world apart” i look for is only becoming more attainable... one day it’ll be me and those i trust with my entirety, who know the importance of flux, and who understand my sparse speech patterns. i’m very tired. i haven’t explained this well enough, i don’t think... it’s a bit hard to say.