in·ti·ma·cy [in-tuh-muh-see]I am a fiercely private person. Getting close to people or allowing people to get close is difficult for me. There are a few people, due to the length of time we've known each other and the histories of our relationships, who have a level of knowledge and understanding that could be considered intimate. But to say that we are intimate friends would not be entirely correct.
–noun, plural -cies.
- the state of being intimate.
- a close, familiar, and usually affectionate or loving personal relationship with another person or group.
- a close association with or detailed knowledge or deep understanding of a place, subject, period of history, etc.: an intimacy with Japan.
- an act or expression serving as a token of familiarity, affection, or the like: to allow the intimacy of using first names.
- an amorously familiar act; liberty.
- sexual intercourse.
- the quality of being comfortable, warm, or familiar: the intimacy of the room.
- privacy, esp. as suitable to the telling of a secret: in the intimacy of his studio.
As with the last post, the idea of intimacy has been weighing on my mind a lot lately. I think that it's due in part to recently working with my ex on repairing some of the things that we broke. I think that it's also due in part to finding two people with whom I share a brain. (There will be no explanation for that.) These two things have lead me to muse on how much of myself I am currently willing to show, how much of people I care to know, and to what ends this all will lead.
One person in particular gets and understands me more than any other person ever has. We connect on a level that transcends description. Whole conversations are had with one single look. We know when something is wrong with the other, even if there is no physical evidence of it. We seem to be the most comfortable and most at ease when we're around each other. It's the type of relationship that would drive a boyfriend into a jealous rage. Yet even with this one particular person I hold back and guard those parts of me that I deem most fragile.
One voice in my head (you know who you are) would tell me that I should drop the walls, learn to trust, and allow at least one person to know me completely. My history, however, has taught me differently - that everybody will betray the trust that is granted them.
Speaking generally, of course.
But that voice would be right. I should let go of my issues. I should send away the ghosts that haunt me. Yet history is a very large specter and will not be exorcised so easily.