Facets

We only see two things in people; what we want to see and what they allow us to see.

The same applies to this and every other blog out there. I'll lay money down that no one online anywhere is completely honest and open in a blog, but then maybe there is some ONE somewhere so desperate to be known that they'd tear themselves open and blog it out, but I can't. I need things to be mine and mine alone, I think most people do.

So what's a blog for? Just to get it out and clear your soul, or am I looking for people to notice me? I mean this is public after all. You don't need a password to read it and still I wonder why anyone would read what I write? Or do I hope they will?

Another good line I heard today was "Whatever you think you know about someone, is most likely wrong."

Facets, sides, layers. Are we the snowflakes They always talk about or hard, shiny diamonds? And which side is the right one? Or are they all the right one at one time of the day or another?

Sometimes the silence screams your secrets back at you, sometimes it holds you close like a lover, or best friend, and sometimes it completely ignores you and natters on about things that never happened, things you only imagine.

What do we really know, or rather who do we really know? I knew my sister, almost completely. With her passing however, I found one or two things in her personal things that made me laugh because I never suspected, but I kept my search to a minimum because in life I would never have gone through her things. Even after someone is gone they deserve their privacy. We should be content with what we know about a person...what they let us see. For me it turns out that is enough. I knew so much about her because she let me, not because I snooped.

And my knowledge of her is enough for The Silence. Most times it talks to me rather than yell, it makes me smile more often than cry when I think of her.

As the days go on, if I'm rested and well fed, I can handle facing life without her physical presence, but I still miss sharing with her, miss laughing and talking and watching tv and instant messenging and buggin her at work or being bugged by her when she'd call a dozen times from work because she was bored or found something funny online for me to check out...and I always did no matter what I was doing. I don;'t recall ever ignoring one of her calls even if it meant losing my groove while working on a piece.

I'd love to be bugged by her right now.

Facets, there were so many. With her I know I didn't ignore any of them, no matter what.

That makes it bearable because there's no guilt.