Rendezvous
08 September 11 : 03.27 AM
Sometimes I get scared thinking further.
I find myself in this comfortable place, and I clearly did everything in my past so that eventually, one day, it would culminate to this, it would lead me here. And I am here. Yet there's something missing.
Maybe that is what desire is about. Desire, in the Judith Butler sense of the word. Someone was talking about her on that bitch of a social network site, and I read it, and suddenly it made sense the way it never did before. And it was like, it hit.
Desire. That which should not be fulfilled, because it only means the end of possibility. A self-cancellation. If everything you have hoped for in your life, is here, now- what happens after? Maybe this is the end I was always talking about, the end I always imagined as a kind of cessation... Maybe the end I envisioned all along wasn't cessation, but the beginning of completion.
Today I stood in front of the mirror in my bathroom. Suddenly I imagined myself pregnant. With child. And it was a thought that frightened me. For the first time. Because for all those times I was so sure it would have signified a beginning, for all the happy thoughts it used to fill me with, I could only see a void.
Desire.
That's the word I can't figure out. Where it starts and where it ends. Funny, because the answer might be the only thing I need right now. We are undone by each other.