I just realized a funny juxtaposition. I love to dream about the past, but I rarely allow myself to reconnect with it. I can hold it in my imagination but never hold it in my arms. That probably carries over to the present moment, too. It takes a lot to connect. There is this gap, some kind of vacuum wind tunnel barricading me. I end up being oddly choosy about whom I get intimate/close to.

originally published on 8/6/10