December 2011
39 posts
“Disbelief over delusion”
– Brother.
And yet, the best part? - I don’t feel I need to say a word.
I have so much to look forward to in the new few weeks,
And in the next few hours.
I’m so happy. I want to vomit.
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Today I drove my mother’s car home from work. The gas peddle somehow got stuck accelerating. The breaks went out. and somehow I’m home. I’m terrified, but thankful.
I have all that I need this holiday season. You, you and you.
Rob's thoughts on my car
“I have a better vehicle in my driveway. It does not have wheels on it.”
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I just want my car back for Christmas.
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I only make smart ass comments when I’m nervous and scared.
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Sometimes
I just want to shove my words so far down my throat that they burn my chest, char my heart, and keep me silent.
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There is a certain amount of dreaming to be done in the winter. The chill brings hope for a warmer future. The winds being motivation for change. I am a planner that progresses with the seasons. I am not in hibernation, but rather I am gathering my forces and planning an attack. I know I am bound to flourish in the spring.
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I am so thankful my thoughts were never tangled in another person’s dreams.
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I saw my uncle for the first time in a while this evening, a surprise from the other side of the counter. His eyes are so blue. Like Dad’s blue. Like mine. And I miss him.
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“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and...
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The realization of inadequacy is a great fear of mine as of late. For inadequacy isn’t something that you manage to fall into, it is something that you have been along. Such a dreadful discovery in realizing that you have never been enough. What a nasty word, inadequate. Yet, is it worse to never find the fiber that is too short, too fat, inadequate? I suppose any road to self betterment is...
I relate to Sylvia Plath far more than I’d like to admit.
Apparently, I am not yet too old for nightmares. Shame.
Men, trim your faces. Don’t shave your beards.
I’d like to be more like the sun and stay in the warmth of the mountains. The darkness is no time for day.
Who missed the crimson apple?
I am constantly searching for the perfect words. When I find them, they will be simple, soft, and only for you.