consolidation
I can't concentrate at work, for the life of me.
Monday, April 21, 2008
I cried during a gym class
It was at the end, during the cool-down. The instructor put on that Alicia Keys song, the one about no one, no one, no one getting in the way of what i feel for you. She instructed us to get into Child's Pose.
And it was there, with my face pressed to the bright blue mat that smelled like sweat and humanity, with a crappy love song on the loudspeakers, my body awake and aching, that the tiny tremors shook me gently and tears streamed down my face.
It kept me in its hold all the way up 2nd St., your old office building entering my periphery (a new flood.) I imagined you were walking down the street towards me, and I could recognize you from three blocks away. What I mean to say is, not even the entire populace of the City could conceal the thin layer of light all around you.
But I cannot say "light" so I say, "I can recognize that bouncy gait a mile away," the same thing every time. And you shake your head and smile and pull me towards you. each. time.
Never before had I felt so condescended to with a kiss.
Never before had I minded being condescended to so little.
9:53 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Monday, April 14, 2008
23 or 22
i had a moment about a week ago when i was driving and i couldn't, for a moment and for the life of me, remember how old i was. a year of my life disappeared, not in terms of memory or event, but i just couldn't remember how many of them there were supposed to have been.
it wasn't until after i caught the error that the panic set in, though it was thankfully brief. it just squeezed my heart for a moment, swung on an artery, on its way someplace else.
***
the days have been more consistently like bell curves this last week, or like sandwiches, or shelves bookended - at any rate - by tears. tears in the morning, tears at night, and something to distract me during the day. i used to be surprised and hurt by how hard it is to be good, but it doesn't really impress me anymore. sometimes it's easy to see a light at the end of the tunnel and sometimes it's easy to feel like your decisions were hardly decisions but simply the only thing that could be done. but even these feelings can coexist with an intense desire to turn back time, take back the last however-long of your life. acceptance, then, comes not so much from true belief in the decisions themselves, but more in our understanding of comtemporary physics.
so hope hangs like your own personal raincloud and everytime you think you've lost it someone tells you about their sister and her husband or their two friends, and gentle little raindrops keep you green, alive, reminded. you start to think maybe things do work out that way, not just for those "other" people, but for you, too. and maybe you did do the mature thing, and the smart thing, and the kind thing, and the loving thing, and the best thing. maybe you really did do the only thing you could have done if you hoped for the future and hoped for yourself and hoped for him and hoped for "you" as in that dual-entity somewhere "down the line."
and when you're sitting in a roomful of so many maybes they start to feel less like conspiratorial ne'er-do-wells and more like dear friends. they collectively gather like sturdily constructed molecules under your heart, giving it bouyancy, motion. you hold onto it and maybe trust that it will take you someplace good, maybe trust that it will make you good. maybe hope it will bring you back one day, better, kinder. maybe even let yourself hope he's there to welcome you back.
***
(...he's holding a sign with your name on it, wearing your favorite shirt and a smile on his face. he says all the things he never could, and you finally accept them without any questions.)
5:14 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Monday, April 21, 2008
I cried during a gym class
It was at the end, during the cool-down. The instructor put on that Alicia Keys song, the one about no one, no one, no one getting in the way of what i feel for you. She instructed us to get into Child's Pose.
And it was there, with my face pressed to the bright blue mat that smelled like sweat and humanity, with a crappy love song on the loudspeakers, my body awake and aching, that the tiny tremors shook me gently and tears streamed down my face.
It kept me in its hold all the way up 2nd St., your old office building entering my periphery (a new flood.) I imagined you were walking down the street towards me, and I could recognize you from three blocks away. What I mean to say is, not even the entire populace of the City could conceal the thin layer of light all around you.
But I cannot say "light" so I say, "I can recognize that bouncy gait a mile away," the same thing every time. And you shake your head and smile and pull me towards you. each. time.
Never before had I felt so condescended to with a kiss.
Never before had I minded being condescended to so little.
9:53 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Monday, April 14, 2008
23 or 22
i had a moment about a week ago when i was driving and i couldn't, for a moment and for the life of me, remember how old i was. a year of my life disappeared, not in terms of memory or event, but i just couldn't remember how many of them there were supposed to have been.
it wasn't until after i caught the error that the panic set in, though it was thankfully brief. it just squeezed my heart for a moment, swung on an artery, on its way someplace else.
***
the days have been more consistently like bell curves this last week, or like sandwiches, or shelves bookended - at any rate - by tears. tears in the morning, tears at night, and something to distract me during the day. i used to be surprised and hurt by how hard it is to be good, but it doesn't really impress me anymore. sometimes it's easy to see a light at the end of the tunnel and sometimes it's easy to feel like your decisions were hardly decisions but simply the only thing that could be done. but even these feelings can coexist with an intense desire to turn back time, take back the last however-long of your life. acceptance, then, comes not so much from true belief in the decisions themselves, but more in our understanding of comtemporary physics.
so hope hangs like your own personal raincloud and everytime you think you've lost it someone tells you about their sister and her husband or their two friends, and gentle little raindrops keep you green, alive, reminded. you start to think maybe things do work out that way, not just for those "other" people, but for you, too. and maybe you did do the mature thing, and the smart thing, and the kind thing, and the loving thing, and the best thing. maybe you really did do the only thing you could have done if you hoped for the future and hoped for yourself and hoped for him and hoped for "you" as in that dual-entity somewhere "down the line."
and when you're sitting in a roomful of so many maybes they start to feel less like conspiratorial ne'er-do-wells and more like dear friends. they collectively gather like sturdily constructed molecules under your heart, giving it bouyancy, motion. you hold onto it and maybe trust that it will take you someplace good, maybe trust that it will make you good. maybe hope it will bring you back one day, better, kinder. maybe even let yourself hope he's there to welcome you back.
***
(...he's holding a sign with your name on it, wearing your favorite shirt and a smile on his face. he says all the things he never could, and you finally accept them without any questions.)
5:14 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove