This was written long ago, before the divorce began. This is how I felt in my marriage.
I wonder wonder wonder wonder why!
I wonder why some people live inside of a little tiny world and they don't even want to come outside of that world. They are so comfortable in that little world that they aren't even interested in a bigger world. Ya know what I mean?
You have to go through so many rooms to reach them. You stand there, looking up at this stone fortress that stretches high up in the sky, forever. And then you look left and you look right, and all you see is the stones cemented together with years and years and years of pain and hurt and resolve. Cement resolve. You can't get through it. You may as well just walk away and forget it.
But, instead, you open that door again. And walk inside again, turn to the left again, walk down that long long hallway again, to the door at the end, through it and into another room, through that room, into another room, down that corridor .... to this person.
Inside, locked up tighter than a drum, protected and hidden, lives this person. And you calmly walk in again and say, "I'm here. And no, I didn't leave yet. I'm still here."
This person looks up from their factory fed world just a brief moment, just long enough to let it register that you are still there ..... and then back to the factory mentality. Back to the world that is closed up and sealed off and protected. Back to that.
When you want to talk to them, they can't hear you. The machines are too loud. They look at you and appear to hear, but they don't. And they never ever turn off the machines. Never. To do that would risk reality. And reality is not wanted. Only the factory fed existance is wanted. I wonder how long this factory is going to put out this bullshit! I wonder that.
I wonder why anybody would want to stay inside of a place like that for so long. I wonder that.
But then, on the other hand, the man in the factory sometimes pauses his machine just long enough to walk over to the window and peek out for just a second to see her. He might even have to rub a little tiny circle in the window to clean it off and see better; and sometimes he does that, but not often. She is running through the meadow below the factory window. She is running in circles and laughing and dancing and singing and falling into the soft flower pedals exhausted. He doesn't understand her. She's too ....... something. Too ....... well, he doesn't have time to figure that out. Back to the machine. Back to money, back to the factory mentality, back to his world. Her world is too something and he doesn't want any part of it.
And sometimes she glances up at the window where she knows he is watching and she waves. She can wave from the outside and blow him a kiss and not feel so trapped. But, whenever she goes into his world, she can't breath as well, the walls close in and it turns into a sad place again. The thing she fears the most is the conveyer belt. He keeps wanting her to go through his factory and turn out perfect, just how he designed her, just the way the plans were drawn on the drafting table, designed for him, for his convenience, for his pleasure, for his needs. She has seen the plans and rejected them. They are too confining. They are too lopsided. They are too restricting. They don't have dreams built in them. They are one-sided. They are without a heart and a soul. They are hollow. She doesn't intend to fall into that plan, ever.
But he never hears her. So, I wonder how long she is going to walk down that hallway into that room and try to make him listen. And I wonder why people think she is not pliable, flexible, bendable, stretchable and workable. She has been in both worlds a long long time now. And she is very flexible! ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
