Beagling

"The sensitive ones are the least sensitive" - I swing between extremes, I don't know where the happy medium is. The days I feel the most, I feel the least. I see him as the way I can feel it all best but I haven't figured it all out as yet. Constant surprises from him, he knows exactly what is needed. I look and peer but there are always places I don't know about that he watches me from. Why am I so interesting? What made me worthy of this, more than any other? Is that my fear, that my ego will destroy it all? Can me as a solitary person be deep enough to captivate? I see the point of forever now, there is no bottom of it all. The sideways action of me still creeps forwards in a zig-zag. I still tend to hide the parts until I've inspected them thoroughly and made sure they're interesting enough to share. Is it a jealousy to not let them go before I've looked at them? Will I ever see a piece of him that he has not inspected first? Perhaps, there are moments, I can tell when we go back and they're no longer on display for me although I know I have not yet learned the proper respect and it's no surprise to me. Perhaps it was a panicked childhood where I learned to steal and force things open, the brute strength theory, I can see where I might have learned that. Repeated panic to make sure it's where I left it: who was that, who kept moving my things? Someone sneakier than me, must be someone, wouldn't learn the snoopy-feelings from no-one. I wonder again and always at his patience, the source and the aim. Again I squirm with excitement.