What Do We Know?

I know what I know, but not what I don’t.
You know what you know, but not what you don’t.
I can tell you what I know, but I can’t make you know it.
You can convey what you know, you can tell or show it.

If we do not have the foundation of trust, that we are both stating only what we know, we cannot truly connect.
I want to connect, I want to share, I want us to make sense of the space between our lives.
I want it to make sense.
Well, it makes sense, but it doesn’t feel like sense.

Step into my world and give me a sharp nod “Yeah ok it makes sense”
If you cannot do that, then fundamentally, we cannot truly connect.

Why do I feel that way? I can step into your world, and smile wide. It makes sense.
You cannot do the same back, and thus, I cannot quantify what kind of relationship we can foster.
It seems that it’s impossible, when we are standing on different shores.

It makes sense because I am, at my core, wrong when placed into the context of your world.
You cannot see how it makes sense, because it seems pretty similar to agreeing with me.
You do not have to agree with me, but you do have to own your actions and reality.
If I do not fit into your reality, it is because you are not allowing me the room to be.
If I am wrong, it is because you are choosing to believe you are right.

As I see it, the onus does not lie entirely with me or you.
It lies between us, but I do not have a solution.
I do not know how to approach you.
I do not know how to connect with you.
I do not know, and that unknown paralyzes me.

What do I do?
How do I do it?

I miss you.
I rankle at the narrative that your action conveys.
That is on me. The story I am laboring under, in regards to how you feel and think, that’s on me.
That is a story my brain creates to make it make sense, and it feels unfair.
I don’t know your story.
I don’t know how you feel.
I don’t know how you think.

I left suddenly, and you let me go.
No one reached out to hear my side.
No one sympathized.

I left because no one could understand.
I left and no one understood.
It seems no one wants to.
They are quite content with the story about me they tell themselves.

That feels dishearteningly excruciating.
The discomfort comes from wanting things to be different.
My discomfort comes from wanting me to be different.

I hope we figure it out.
I hope we didn’t let each other go.

I know what I know.
You know what you know.
I hope there is an eventual We Know, but I Know that it is not gauranteed.

I feel a lot of guilt, sorrow, grief, doubt, fear, a whole smattering of ‘negative’ emotion over the entire situation.
Those feelings paralyze me.
I know what I need to do is reach out and start building the bridges.
Testing the foundations to see if a bridge is feasible in general.

I know what I know.
You know what you know.
Should we build bridges so we can each show?

Maybe you let me leave, because you knew I had to go.
I don’t know.