Being human April 20, 2013
As a caveat to yesterday’s post, I have to wonder how much
she really believes she is part of a group when most of the photos she posts
are of herself.
I’m not saying I mind this. I do not. From the beginning of
this sorted affair, I have found myself mesmerized by images of her.
Early on, I found her daily photo Facebook photos so
distracting that I actually defriended her twice. She was insulted naturally,
especially when I could not fully explain why I did it. I also frequently
erased the photos she sent me via the phone for the same reasons.
Something about the way she looked and still does compelled
a reaction that I was not completely comfortable with, a loss of control, and
the sense that she could command anything from me she wanted.
And I hate being out of control.
She does post group shots with her in their midst, and
perhaps it is only my prejudice that draws my attention to her even when she is
part of the crowd.
While she has no elected position in the city where she works,
at public commission meetings she sits in the front row, as if making sure all
the important people there see her – making me wonder if they are as mesmerized
by her as I was a year ago.
She has a remarkable power over people – especially men –
yet has yet to capitalize on it.
Perhaps, she learned this way back when from that lady on
the cruise or knew it well before that, struggling to make it work for her
advantage.
But her recent poetry indicates that even at her most
manipulative, even when she is utterly sincere and completely consumed by love,
she can sometimes be as powerless as those men who follow behind her –
something that shocks me somewhat since before this, before the most recent batch
of poems, I had envisioned her as immune, a remote and powerful queen of the
night who could get whatever and whomever she wanted simply by nodding her
head.
It is painful to watch her suffer, and yet somewhere deeper
inside my brain, I find at least a little satisfaction in learning she is human
after all.
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