Middle man

I'm a middle man.

I open books to the middle, and usually close them before reaching the end. When telling a story, I jump straight to the crux (this makes for a super lame story, but that's beside the point), clumsily avoiding the background. In relationships, I despise the "top three" type of questions in the getting-to-know-you stage; and I cry when I hug goodbye.

I've gotten better at saying good-bye these last few years, though. I've developed a method that almost always works for me: I simply don't think about it. I know, brilliant, right?

This method, however, takes utmost concentration in not concentrating. It's all zen, in trying to relax, breath and not channel your thoughts; I'm sure it must have some "green" properties, too, since zen and green are in a relationship -dating, but not boyfriend and girlfriend. It's okay, I don't get the concept either... but I'm sure zen and green do.

I find this method as exhausting as building up my core muscles on a skinny, little, pink, green or blue pad. I've always subconsciously thought that the more sad I am when leaving someone, the more it meant that I enjoyed our time together.

Beginnings are awkward. Endings are the end. Put me in the middle, please; I like it there.


Then I found this qoute:
"How lucky I am to have something that makes good-bye so hard" -anonymous

Breath in... now let it out. Good, now relax. That's fine, work through it. Okay, now just let the mind wander, don't think about Portland, don't think about the last time at the Sherwood Coffee Company, don't think about the last time listening to Peter talk at the Gathering, don't think about the last time you will pull into the drive at 16351 Pleasant Hill, don't think...