Revealing or reveling…

What ever could be more damaging than opening my heart to an idea, an entity that would soon leave me. If I fell in love with a person, a feeling or a bond- what then could be saved of my heart. An organ beating fierce like a fist, seizing with passion at the mere sight of such a thing. Too large, with pressing urgency- take a breath. Even the discomfort of its sting has all the sweet, unencumbered resonance of a kiss to me.

To hold a child or is it holding me. I am at first set with panic, only through detachment do I concede to this. To personalize would be most damaging. I think, half present- alternative histories yet to unfold. As any of us could be so many things, feel so varied a motion- I stand, carried in the current of my own detachments. The subtleties of their admission, the delicate threads weaving- they join. Entanglements hold me. My ornate desires an art, a craft once used to cheer sorrows hold the tale of a wanton spirit. Acceptance with fond intention is but a prelude to so many things.

Just like heaven...

I am enjoying the silence, wild nights of abandon taking their leave while I reflect more closely on my current circumstances. It has been lonely, temporary breaks from my solitude are welcome distractions benefiting all parties. I find that more often I am driving, here to there with the music loud. It reminds me terribly of high school in some strange way. As though I am allowed to choose my actions without fear of offending or inconveniencing anyone. I read a book when I care to and rarely eat a real meal. I sleep for an hour here, an hour there- I cannot recall the last time I felt so free. I know that this is but an interlude, how ever will I adjust to compromise again? A trip in the near future may provide better insight I believe.

It appears the breeze has taken yet another acquaintance from my past beyond the realms of mortality, to one’s chosen resting place. It is ever so unsettling; young and dangerous- they die. Hard to fathom that we are still within suicides reach post adolescence, when the most confusing of our journey is over. Perhaps a decade of surging hormones and my own suicide attempts have made me a little presumptuous. I still recall the disbelief that harbored in my 21st year. I cried, it had never occurred to me that I would come this far. But I have.

I finished The Time Travelers Wife some time ago, it embodies the only fear that remains once one’s true mate has been found. Every moment true to human nature, I adored it. I drank it in, everything and nothing at all.

Affirmations often come in fitful downpours…

This is why I feel that good days warrant caution, when every pore exudes only “yes” I become sure that the answer is “no”. How quickly soft expressions slip from candid faces, all day I had heard my tiny self saying, “no matter what, today is the good day.” It took a physical assault of the senses to finally assure me otherwise. Details such as time, make the sobbing all the more caustic- making quick work at the foundations of others until you too, can taste its faining sweat.