baby, I miss you, let's pretend I'm there

I like to think of packing myself up in some sort of gift box and sending it to someone in the mail. (Try to read that last sentence not in a Seven sort of way, but more in let’s-share-ourselves-emotionally sort of way.) I think about how I could make the gift not generic, but something unique to the person I was sending it to; something that would make that person in particular know it was a piece of me that was for them alone.

And when I think of what I could give to someone, I think of the content that makes me up, and the container which holds that content. I have certain facades that are created from some structure defined by the content underneath; these facades I think of as honest and complete. Then there are also facades that are paper mache constructions based on who I hope I will be; I either try to create the content that will strengthen this facade, or I silently hope that someone won't touch this facade that barely has the strength to stand on its own.

I think to show someone a combination of container and content that also speaks to my failings, to the weaknesses of what appear to be a solid container, is to be honest and present. “baby, I miss you, let’s pretend I’m there” is to most people a superficial display of how I could playfully and artificially be present. To the right person, who knows a thing or two about my "prostitute face", it could actually be something quite heartfelt.

I think, then, that this ends up being a bit of my own reflection on how a perception of what the content and container of a person means, is dependent on how it is translated and taken into another individuals internal space.

Photo Credit: Barbora Hrdá