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Human Nature
Sep. 1st, 2006 04:18 amFor the life of me, I can't understand why we wait.
Science makes it seem so simple. How one thing bounces of another, chemical to chemical, and element to element. From a controlled environment all the way up into a pounding rainstorm, the numbers are there, if you take the time to follow them through. And then, the understanding too. The reaction rates of chemical will always be the amounts of a reactant ... reacted or the amount of a product formed per unit of time.
And the time, that's there. It will always be there, again and again, equations worthy of lessons and textbooks, places earned by their own steadiness. Their rightness. They'll repeat themselves again and again in a sort of tireless perfection that isn't even tiring at all, a beautiful simplicity that I love to watch, and be a part of.
And here's were it gets confusing.
We're nothing but those elements, those chemicals, just in a grander more complicated form. Our reactions should be their reactions, and our simplicities born right out of their own. But they aren't. It isn't. And I've never been able to wrap my mind around the why of it.
Why we don't let ourselves feel what we want to feel, and even more, do something about it.
We know when we've done wrong. Thought reacts with time, producing a guilt, and awareness that we recognize easily enough. We know. So why don't we fix it, right then and there? Why do we clamp our teeth closed, and sit on apologies until they sour past saying?
We know what's not safe. Awareness heats underneath our muscles, a blue flame that tells us to move on, away, anywhere but here and still we don't listen. The chemecial reaction floods our senses, and we continue to ignore it still. Oblivion is too complicated a place to actually create for us to fall into it so easily.
We know when we're in love. Sparked interest collides with just the right amount of time, touch, and lust, setting of sub-reaction after sub-reaction. All those chemicals, spinning their way through. They look different. You feel different. You feel them. And you want them to look at you. Spinning, circling, and then words get said, sparking a dozen new reactions all their own. Oh, we know when we're in love. So why do we waste it. Why do we fight it? The natural way of it, the reaction, the order. Our bodies, just following their blocks, the basis of what we are, and we battle against it.
To avoid getting hurt, or save fave, or risk the day you say the word 'love', and not have it said back.
We think we're saving oursleves. Is that it? Is that why we spend so much time holding it in, holding on. Holding out? For the saving?
When all we're doing is denying the very foundations of why we are.
If I've done wrong by you, I'm sorry.
If it's not save, it's time I got on with the saving.
And if it's worth feeling? It's beyond worth saving. That I love you.
But what doesn't make sense, if that's just our building blocks, if that's the truest, simplest reaction followed through. Why does it feel so hard sometimes? And why is it the last thing anyone seeming wanting to do?
I'm just as guilty of it as anyone, and I don't have anything that comes close to feeling like the full answer.
Science makes it seem so simple. How one thing bounces of another, chemical to chemical, and element to element. From a controlled environment all the way up into a pounding rainstorm, the numbers are there, if you take the time to follow them through. And then, the understanding too. The reaction rates of chemical will always be the amounts of a reactant ... reacted or the amount of a product formed per unit of time.
And the time, that's there. It will always be there, again and again, equations worthy of lessons and textbooks, places earned by their own steadiness. Their rightness. They'll repeat themselves again and again in a sort of tireless perfection that isn't even tiring at all, a beautiful simplicity that I love to watch, and be a part of.
And here's were it gets confusing.
We're nothing but those elements, those chemicals, just in a grander more complicated form. Our reactions should be their reactions, and our simplicities born right out of their own. But they aren't. It isn't. And I've never been able to wrap my mind around the why of it.
Why we don't let ourselves feel what we want to feel, and even more, do something about it.
We know when we've done wrong. Thought reacts with time, producing a guilt, and awareness that we recognize easily enough. We know. So why don't we fix it, right then and there? Why do we clamp our teeth closed, and sit on apologies until they sour past saying?
We know what's not safe. Awareness heats underneath our muscles, a blue flame that tells us to move on, away, anywhere but here and still we don't listen. The chemecial reaction floods our senses, and we continue to ignore it still. Oblivion is too complicated a place to actually create for us to fall into it so easily.
We know when we're in love. Sparked interest collides with just the right amount of time, touch, and lust, setting of sub-reaction after sub-reaction. All those chemicals, spinning their way through. They look different. You feel different. You feel them. And you want them to look at you. Spinning, circling, and then words get said, sparking a dozen new reactions all their own. Oh, we know when we're in love. So why do we waste it. Why do we fight it? The natural way of it, the reaction, the order. Our bodies, just following their blocks, the basis of what we are, and we battle against it.
To avoid getting hurt, or save fave, or risk the day you say the word 'love', and not have it said back.
We think we're saving oursleves. Is that it? Is that why we spend so much time holding it in, holding on. Holding out? For the saving?
When all we're doing is denying the very foundations of why we are.
If I've done wrong by you, I'm sorry.
If it's not save, it's time I got on with the saving.
And if it's worth feeling? It's beyond worth saving. That I love you.
But what doesn't make sense, if that's just our building blocks, if that's the truest, simplest reaction followed through. Why does it feel so hard sometimes? And why is it the last thing anyone seeming wanting to do?
I'm just as guilty of it as anyone, and I don't have anything that comes close to feeling like the full answer.
