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Night time is the hardest. Last night was very difficult.
Last night, I wrote that I am still alive and I can still choose not to be a monster. I wasn't thinking clearly, because that is untrue. I can only decide how to use the monster. Or if the monster should change in nature to become more usable.
This is a time to be alone and to sort through ( Read more... ) -
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My step-father is dead. All the things I wrote in this journal about him are so blatantly in the past now, because he isn't coming back and there is no chance of those things ever happening again, and I don't have to worry about Christmas or Thanksgiving, or birthdays or living arrangements.
How is it that I'm still descending into chaos? That the ( Read more... ) -
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Solve et coagula. Solve. Coagula. Solve Coagula. SolveCoagula.
Over and over into infinity. Until you're sick of breaking apart and coming back together. Until the chaos feels just as typical and uncomfortable as the order. Or the order feels just as typical and uncomfortable as the chaos. I'm not sure which comes first, semantically or otherwise. ( Read more... ) -
Don't Open until January 1
The holidays always stir me up so much. It's difficult for me to contain myself during this time. I know this in my brain, but it always sneaks up on me a few days before Thanksgiving, and stays with me like an unwanted touch. I guess the touch is with me all the time, because in the past I've never been cognizant of it going away at the new year. ( Read more... ) -
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I want to know your strange heart. -
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I'm having a Tuesday night meltdown. It is much different than my now-normal Saturday night meltdown.
I want to watch the people who make me angry burn. -
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I woke up with the phrase "each crop of kisses richer than the last" in my brain at 4:30 this morning. It ruminated there for a while. It's so strange how lines just pop into my head when I don't expect it, and a whole piece forms. And how that didn't seem to happen for years, and now it happens all the time. I suppose my muse is back ( Read more... ) -
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Allowing myself the time and space to feel and think through feelings is the very essence of power and wonder. That I can feel so much and not have to act at all until I decide to is something new and foreign to me, and this is a realization to bathe in.
It is baptismal.
It is prismatic. -
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I have slept next to death, and his breathing is loud and rhythmic and sweet ( Read more... ) -
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Saturdays are always so lonely for me.
I am unsure why.