Floral slippage

Not sure why it works the way it does. When something is offered to me, why, in the past, I've felt afraid of it. And when it slips away, it reveals itself, or so it seems, as something I do indeed want.

Why the fear in moment of aloneness? When someone is gone, then there is danger? When someone is gone, then there is this diminishing sense of self? Existence doesn't persist in aloneness? Someone told me that if a baby isn't held enough, the result is an adult that feels very threatened by aloneness.

Can something that was offered for such a short time really be sincere? It betrays itself as my experience, as interest until interest is returned, and then, disinterest. She too, I think, feels the terror of aloneness. She too is terrified by feeling out of control. When the wound is opened, she needs to fill it with others, or else she may drown. Maybe I'm wrong.

When I was little, I was alone, always. I watched my parents closely as they preoccupied themselves with things other than noticing me. I think this is what I feel when I am left. I think I purposely make myself be left so that I can replicate this scenario, and try to get it right. It's hard to know what is right, who is right >>>>

>>>>>>someone who is patient and kind, who is not tricked by her own fear, someone who smiles in relief >>when the reversal comes, at last.

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Another dozen roses.