Give me clear skies; I'll tell you a story

Here's something I've apparently just realized: The Obscure Object is kind of a bitch.

Her tone is my least favorite thing about her. Written, spoken, inferred with a look: it is either completely difficult to decipher, or flat-out bitchariffic. I can think of three recent & specific examples of this, and I don't particularly care to regurgitate them here. This is something I needed to realize, though.

Maybe it's me overreacting (because I never do that), but I pick up on tone much better than I do body language. And she and I have, in the past, misread each other's written tones. She's one- if not the only person- of a few people I have that habit with.

I over analyze, yes, and over-think. The perplexion and confusion and hidden/not-so-hidden possibilities don't help calm this over-ing. The fact that I can't seem to have a simple conversation with her doesn't help. Not knowing, knowing too much, failing to see how I can properly communicate this: not helpful.

I don't know where this leaves me, but I also don't know that I care.


I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against
The want of you;
Of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it.
-Amy Lowell, "The Letter"