Shogun.
I shake my head because maybe it’s just in the wind, or possibly made up, but there's something incessantly familiar, can't fucking ignore it, sloppily parted right in the center. I can’t help but sense a very specific burning smell in the air.
This part of my brain cannot reference what is happening around me when shifted into a more delicate gear. The rest of my brain reacts to this one tiny speck of muscle in my head, all working, all listening, all aiding the one sector of my brain that probably shouldn't be there at all, but is, and it periodically has a hissy fit, calling to attention the army that is the rest of my membrane. It hurts me, hurts me, and in so many directions at once I think that I've been lost or maybe forgot myself at the last fork in the road. It's only one thing, but it breaks my back and makes me stop
paying attention.
I think you would too.
Certain colors bother me now, set me off. Got a new job, and another new job, and another one. I keep changing, so often that I just don’t have the energy to catalogue all the variations diligently. From where I am now, whether the connotations likned to my past experiences are negative or positive doesn't matter anymore. I don't want to look over my shoulder anymore; I've got more important things to do...
Which is, of course, exactly what I want myself to think.
Sometimes it rains and sometimes it doesn't. It gets to be September and all the pretty, shiny, happy people show up on your TV, in your mailbox, on the streets without a care in the world because hey, think about how easy everything is if you simply ignore the fact that the holidays dont make your gas bills go away, dont make your ex-s' disappear, dont make the scholarships you need to get the hell out of this place anymore available. The holidays do however, make them all a lot more apparent if not more difficult to juggle between keeping your big silly democratic mouth clamped shut at family functions and struggling to make your wine stay in the bottle. The haze around my head continues to thicken while everything draws in closer.
Sometimes it rains and sometime you react before it can.
It was my mistake the first time. The second, it was simple; I just had to watch. I may have consciously put myself on standby for protection, out of confusion, just to prove my audacity; that’s not information I remember now. Eventually, in situations like those, you let the floods come loose to be what they are. It comes so fast and so hard you don't have the opportunity to hold your hands up, to protest: No, it isn't what you had in mind, no, this is not the direction you in fact expected to turn.
She says, "Its funny how things work out sometimes."
He says, “I don't actually think it's funny at all."
I won't play if I don't want to, I'm not going to catch my breath, and I'm not planning on making up for lost time. Forward is still forward, which is what I'm beginning to realize. Direction becomes more and more relative and reaction more prevalent. I say it's complicated because it is; it's still undefined and frighteningly new.
Threatening and invasive and I don't miss the way things used to be.
I keep layering up for the changes, waiting for things to settle, for everyone to fall asleep. I'm biding my time until I look in the mirror and say,
"I told you so."
And I'll be grateful to know that kind of peace, to understand, to be okay with understanding, to know my heart and your heart and, and, and
the sky will change. I'll be watching and when it does, I'll sing.
Dear C,
Sometimes it rains.
When it does, our glasses will be full.