so much fun

he’s quite dextrous with the hands and the Rubik’s cube. there’s an odd level of fascination watching the planes twist and reconfigure in their correct corners. can’t work it out myself, but I’ll watch for hours. solving it again and again. no matter how messy it becomes, he’s fixed it and organized it and made it make sense in less than five minutes, with a solid strong mind and hands that don’t stop moving. half the time he doesn’t look at the cube until it’s done.

the first time it stole my attention, I was slightly drunk and hoping that all these feelings couldn’t be blamed on alcohol. it turns out drinks don’t affect the feelings, just the inhibitions. but those are fading, sober or no. I’m thoroughly enjoying this. I may pretend forever that I don’t know how to solve the cube myself, or how to learn, just for fun. this is so much fun.

secret

she has a secret.

her secret is that she thinks they are both filled with an undiluted joy about one another. she must admit she is really quite thrilled at his existence. he says sweet things for no other reason than the simple pleasure of saying them. and he is saying them about her, which she finds strange but is choosing not to question.

her secret is that this is her favorite part. this slow circling and wondering and easy dreaming. like the word ‘maybe’ formed out of blue cotton candy. or building a sand castle at low tide and waiting for the ocean to come take back the shore.

thanks for not being the kind of awful boy who is afraid to show that he feels things.

in her head

“get the hell out of my brain,” she told him.
he smiled, pleased at his uncanny ability to fit his words to the thoughts in her head instead of the phrases in her mouth.
he promised to get out, and to stay out, but he was still smiling.
she thinks it’s because he knew.
knew that he was somehow already stuck in there.
she thinks he likes it in her brain.
he’s likely got an armchair and a nice blanket and he’s curled up all comfortable, watching her thoughts blink through like channels flipping.
she secretly thinks he’s been there for a while.
perhaps the first night they spent hours wandering in the dark, he sent out a little bit of himself and it got in her brain and decided to stay.
only she didn’t know it was there, or how firmly it was entrenched, until they were sitting in the truck at night.
and now that little bit won’t shut up or give her any peace until she can go walking about with him again.
he knows all of this somehow.
he planned the whole thing.
it’s working very well for  him so far.
this bit in her brain allows him to think up a sentence that will make her knees shake.
he will take ages to say it, and stumble about on the way, and eventually land on the right  turn of phrase.
she can tell that this boy is going to have an effect on her.
this quiet boy with his seldom and carefully chosen words will win her over.
she can already feel it.
the fastest way to get to her heart is to get in her head, and he’s there.
it’s not an if, it’s a when.
so she won’t ask him again to get out of her brain.
it would be rude to kick out someone who seems so effortlessly content.
this is going to be fun.

things that throw me off

it’s not an extensive list.
it includes my brother getting married, people dying.
that kind of thing generally gets me flustered.

another thing that does it is much more mundane. time passing abruptly.
I know, logically, that time passes at the same constant speed.
I know also that it is supposed to pass. time is what keeps things from happening all at once.
but to me it seems that time goes very slowly when I am waiting for things to happen.
I expect days to pass quickly because I’ve got things to do, to prepare for the things that will happen, but there is always plenty of time in which to do them.
when it gets to the day of, there is no time at all. it’s gone before it begins.
then it is over and all there is left to do is think about what has happened, and all the ways there are to feel about it.

it’s that change in speed that gets to me. I’m not sure I approve.

you should probably just say it.

they’ve all got something to say.
I know they do. I’ve heard them.
at one point they were all afraid to say it.
the ones we hear about are the ones who broke through their fear.
they learned that what they had to say was more important than being afraid.
someone taught them, whether intentionally or no.
speaking up is a learned behavior.
we have to reward this open and hopefully honest communication. else it will cease to be of value in society.
which is untrue. it is of the utmost value.
communication without fear is our greatest commodity as a civilization.
you end it and you end us.
but with it we can survive anything.

Mother, may I.

may I never be quite like her, content to be motionless and have the world presented to her on her own terms.
may I be thin and strong and independent my entire life.
may I have the means and resources to purchase and cook quality food for myself and my future family.
may I always value movement and action over sedentary inaction.
may I fall in love with someone who cannot help but be constantly moving so that I have to sprint to keep up.
that is my dearest wish: to never have my future children feel about me the way I feel about her.
may my mind andmy body be more valuable than my paycheck.
may I keep these dreams alive and remember them as motivations when I am faced with choices that seem easy at the outset but are far more essential at their core.

here.

the room is the entrance to a home. hundreds of feet have run through the doorway in a blur of joy. now it is the portal to what is essentially a hospital room. there is an automated bed and recliner. a breathing machine is stashed under a side table. another table holds medications, sodas, cloths and silly little trinkets and games to occupy the mind. there are visitors and calls to check in and constant questions and offers to help, to comfort. feet pass through at a slow safe pace so as not to upset or fuss. the world comes inside that room for a few hours at a time, but it must always leave and go back home. we here are already home. in the place with the hospital entrance. where can we go back to?

such a liar

I’m such a liar. I do pray. I do. when it’s dark and I’m alone and I’m scared and I need to do something or when someone needs help and I can’t give it. like now.

a sister’s bad choices have come full circle, but now she has chosen to get out.  she deserves so much better. her children deserve so much better. they can reach so much higher if they are able to leap from a foundation that holds them up high as a trophy proclaiming, “This is my child! See what he will do in this world!”

the lesson-be choosy about second chances. don’t ever trust a man or a woman or anyone who treats you badly. there is never an excuse to hit a woman. never. there is never an excuse to accept abuse. you are so much stronger than that. you can hold up the whole world for days at a time. you do not need this man. you can be so much more beautiful without the danger and terror he causes in your life.

In the dark when I am alone and useless, I pray that I never know that fear.

home

waiting to leave.
I am locked and loaded but just waiting for the trigger, the bright flash of more bitter than sweet activity to get me the hell out of here.
this place is toxic for me.
too much presentation and show.
the reality dies under all that makeup and the numerous daily costume changes.
I’m not meant to keep up with this and lose touch with everything else.
my dad will be here soon, as he so often is.
summer is waiting for me.
in the bright blue skies and waving trees calling me outside to play.
not yet, world.
I have to get home first.

I’m sorry

I’m sorry you don’t try at anything.
I’m sorry everything is such a joke to you.
I’m sorry you feel so scared inside of yourself.
I’m sorry you let it paralyze you.
I’m not sorry that I intimidate you. the moment I stop scaring people is the moment I stop living.