Aloneness, i find, or protracted absence of communication ,is only one dimension of solitude. Being with someone who is distant, tarries any possible sense of interchange. There is the body, with which a certain closeness is evinced and there is this gulf, which seems, at moments, to be both irreparable and unbridgeable.
Of course mutual parleying constitutes our conversations. Territories are staked, boundaries are mapped out. Concentring our respective beings is an engirdled taciturnity. So that while words are exchanged their import is disavowed. Or perhaps even negated. It is a state of affairs i have now become accustomed to. It seems de rigueur, part of a pattern of those panoplies of complicity and self deception which must, surely, be true of many of us.
It is difficult to pinpoint the moment of our estrangement. Perhaps we were never together at all. From my side i eschewed all self revelation fearing that i might become imprisoned in his aegis. Besides my vulnerabilities are propensities, often undiscerned by me, might draw out his insuperable antipathy. I alternated between these two conundrums. In the process i appeared to him in a convoluted form. Whether he divined my complexity ceased to bother me. What concerned me more was what he made of it.
My repressions were a forestalling of my censorious self excoriations. But by forestalling them i obliterated their significance. I was carrying on blandly, with a blanched countenance, withering inwardly while being unaware of it. This dissimulation i allude to was so interwoven with my other real life intersections that i deemed them unimportant, not meriting any analysis.
Even then i was discomfited by how he mirrored my distorted self image to myself. Acclimatizing to prevarication is easy but sustaining it, over a protracted interlude, more arduous. He reflected my dissembling to me by embodying, through his impenetrability, the futility and vaingloriousness behind my own. For a few years these unbidden, unprepossessing intimations strengthened my performance, deepened my conviction that concealment was necessary. Eventually the cracks began to show. My self containment, always putative, appeared to be illusory. Compensations seemed makeshift and tenuous.
At this point in time i am at a crossroads. I want to reveal to him my true being. But will he bear up against its tumultuous dark aspects. Moreover his own attendant self revelations might crystallize my own latent desire to walk out. The risks seem tremendous but so do the restitutions, envisaged theoretically, seem irrepressibly irresistible. Vacillating between these two positions is non negotiable . An action is called for. I can neither predict the consequences nor control their outcome. I remain uncognizant of what these might conceivably me. But a part of me threatens rupture and it is best to articulate my totality than dwell is self doubt. That is my conscious choice.