Always is a dangerous word.
I'm watching life's proverbial ebb and flow, mostly wondering to which basin it will lead. (I wish sewing machines worked on lives)
The most dangerous stress is unconscious; the underground rushing river of tension, gurgling up unexpectedly and slowy boiling. Then- Yellowstone.
I moved into a new place this week, leaving the key to my first apartment to an anonymous resident and leaving my first roommate and dearest friend to find her way to North Carolina. Now, I'm in a charming house filled with seashells and books and bizarre pieces of high school. The only good thing about having a basement apartment is relating makes you like the song more.
Two and a half months. Two and a half months of waking up in a good mood. I never thought it was possible and even though it's done now (now we've moved on to turning points and Discussions), my joy is pure knowing that I achieved the previously thought impossible.
Time has become my shadow, as I've lost a form and the only thing that casts on the sidewalk is wispy hair rooted in air. Time hasn't been cruel to me, despite it's mocking. I use it mostly as my ally, remembering that no matter how atrocious the current seconds are, time keeps moving and the situation cannot continue for ever. Time will move past all things. (All anxiety, all love, all crying children, all despair).
It's time to find my shadow again. Yes, I'll need bulldozers but hopefully the roots will survive.