I used to feel that this place was a place of safety and openness.
Most places were a place of openness, even if I fought it all with the illusion that I was guarded.
Hello, Old, nice to meet you.
Even though I spend all day doing it, I just can't imagine what it would be like to arrive.
And after all that energy, I have to wonder if in the end, I really want what I imagine.
Life really isn't that bad as it is, after all.
Emily is coming home. Emily, Emily. That other half that is just as emotional and all too logical, and somewhat pathetic and perfectly, yes perfectly Blair, understanding. 5 more weeks and I can hardly keep it all in, this emotion that spills out of me every time I think of being able to just talk, and be heard, and that feeling of uncensored love.
But now there's demons called Anonymous. I fight them in my sleep - warding them off with silver swords like I'm a heroine in a world created in pages. They haunt me and bundle the words up tight in my chest . . . every thought is critiqued, every action analyzed. She has joined the ranks of other powerful demons . . doubt . . . fear . . . . hurt.
What it all boils down to is we all want love, and we all want to feel needed - to feel that we fill someone else up to overflowing.
"Just let me sing." I wake up feeling this way - holding my arms out as if, as if if I just flap enough, one day I'll fly. In the meantime, do you know how silly someone looks flapping their arms up and down, up and down? But maybe the motion of doing so helps someone else think they're doing okay too - that, "see, everyone is trying" motion as you look out of the corner of your eye to see if anyone is watching.
I can't remember a time in my life when honesty has ever seemed so vulnerable. Which is why I know it's time to write. It's time to air these feelings out in the open and let the sun dry out the wetness of it all. I am a loyal friend. Not a friendly friend, but a loyal one. I love the smell of dirt, and the warm of summer. I love the moment right before the sun goes down when the whole world is rocked to sleep by the crickets. I love feeling like we're going to make it - this little family of mine and what we try so hard to hold onto. I love a lot, don't cry enough, and pray for the faith to make it through - - - those days, those days. I am full of a feeling like I'm holding my breathe - a suspension, an anticipation. How I wish that I could be full enough to soar past it all on something more tangible than hope.
Foresight. Wish I had more of it.
Gratitude. Gives me perspective.
Honesty. Honesty is about embracing the often uncomfortable.
And here I sit.