"Facets"
   A Lunar Eclipses Quickie by Nikki Purvis
   27 February 1997

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    Rational.  Always rational.
    They think that I am cool and calm, my emotions like a clear,
blue lake on a fine summer day.  Do they suspect what lies hidden
under the surface?  The tumultuous and chaotic waters that churn
within, that threaten to burst free and sweep me away, leaving a
lifetime of unexpressed emotion behind.
    They are there for me.
    The restraints I use are bound so tightly.
    My friends.
    Why do I find it so hard to be myself?

    I will not fail.
    Not again.
    I have always stood up for what is right; strong and unyielding,
unwavering and unapologizing.
    To know me is to know truth, about me and about you.  I will not
shield you from it, but I will support you when you learn, from the
moment of realization to they day you cast me out.
    I am blunt and I am honest.  I cannot be anything but myself and
I would not be even if such a deception were in my power.
    But what if that isn't enough?  What if, despite myself, you
find me lacking?
    Like he did.
    And you leave me, making it clear that the all I gave to you was
not enough.
    Like he did.
    To know me is to know truth.
    And the truth is, I am terrified.

    Everybody's best friend.
    That's me.
    If you need word of encouragement, I've already prepared a
speech.  If you need a helping hand, I've got two to spare.
    A joke, a plan, a pat on the back.
    A shoulder to cry on, an ear to bend, arms to carry you through.
    You'll find that I can play any role that you need.  I've had
lots of experience, you see.  I've played many roles in my
lifetime.  I can perfectly and effortlessly become whatever your
heart desires.
    The perfect best friend.
    I only wish I hadn't lost myself somewhere along the way.

    A bitch?
    Perhaps.  You won't be the first person to call me that.  I've
long since stopped caring, however.
    I get annoyed.  Yes, very easily (although there are some that
seem to have an ability to annoy me with an alarming frequency).
I've grown to accept that aspect of myself.  If you can't accept it
too, then I suggest you leave.
    Still here?  You've got guts.  I'm not an easy person to be
around.
    Anger is my ruling emotion.  It gives me energy, feeding the
fires that blaze within my soul.
    And it protects me.
    It shields me from other, less comforting emotions that I don't
have the experience to deal with.  My flames keep me safe and
isolated from the pain that rages outside of its walls.
    Lonely?  On occasion.  But then that burden is burned away from
my heart with the others.  I hardly ever notice when the feeling
comes back, worse than before.
    I have rarely been anything but cruel to you.  Oh, every now and
again, when the fires have been allowed to burn down to a glowing
ember, I've permitted myself to react to you a little differently.
But these events are few and far between.
    I'm not a very nice person.
    And yet, you are still here.
    My anger flares again and again, but you don't leave me.
    I don't understand, you make no sense.
    Why is it that my fire doesn't protect me from you?

    Duty drives me.
    Duty and responsibility.  All else is insignificant.
    I'm not sure that I could consider myself as having friends; I
lack the time needed for them, although there are those that I admit
to being fond of.
    When I am able, I give all that I can to them.  But when I hear
the call of duty, the siren song of my reponsibility beckoning me,
there is no question.  I will leave them.
    I existed before they came into my life.  I will exist after
they are gone.
    How do I live with myself?
    Don't you see?  There is no time for that, either.

    I will never be caught.
    My feelings, my heart are my own.   We will never surrender.
    It's true that others have said the same, and then I've watched
as they disappeared from my view, falling behind to its ravenous,
insatiable hunger.
    They were too slow.
    I am the wind.  I will never be caught.
    For years my world remained firm and stable.  No surprises, no
disappointments.  No emotion but a burning desire to be the best.
    Then you entered my world, and for the first time I felt myself
falter, my carefully constructed defenses began to shake and
crumble.
    And as you took my hand in your own, I realized that I no longer
had to run alone.
    I will never be caught.
    By anyone but you.


    I am a paradox.
    Both old and young, death and life, dark and light, weakness and
strength.  I am all these things and more.
    I have been feared, pitied, tormented, loved, persecuted,
persecutor, hated, comforted, condemned, worshipped.
    All of this, wrapped in one convienient package.
    But you shouldn't be surprised.  Can any of these things exist
without their counterpart?
    I am not a paradox.

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Why?  Why not?  It felt right today.
I'm not sure if you'll like it -- I'm not sure if *I* like it.
But little details like that rarely stop me.
If you didn't hate it, I'd love to hear at JetWolf@ix.netcom.com.
If you did, I can be reached at the same address.
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Sorry for the previous posting, by the way. I thought I was
finished, and then I went and got some more ideas.
Promise, though, this is indeed the final version.
After all, I've nothing else to say.
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