I once held my entire soul inside my lungs for a three hour drive. If I let it slip out I knew it would fall on my heart and break it.
Then when I got home and let my heart break, I slept for hours.
I wish I had sleep. My soul is cold. It takes an incredible amount of energy to keep breathing when your soul is cold, as mine is. And everyone wants me to keep breathing so I have to do it. But my soul is so cold.
This morning I called Glass to come and he was there. And he sat in my car with me and listened as I talked about snow. I said I was sad because I wasn’t enjoying the snow I could tell was beautiful, and what did it mean? Glass asked me about the last time I was happy and I talked about the warm day out walking with Gentle. And the steps the steps the steps. And the small lunch place and the lovely things to eat and the sunshine. And I said I knew the snow was beautiful. But it was also dangerous and could hurt me by making me cold and tired. And what if I got so tired I touched one virus and it got me and I infected Tea and his family and Gentle and Warmth and his family and my family and my workplace and everyone died and it was my fault. And Glass said that’s not going to happen. Or, he said after a minute, I could stay home and do nothing and they could all get sick anyway. And I was quiet. And I knew Glass was right. And I felt a little better.
I’ve been having conversations by halves. I want to record some of the ones I remember.
The first one was with Strength at the dentist. I don’t mind going to the dentist except when they do bitewings. Those make me gag. But they do them anyway and I deal. Last time Strength was there. He wasn’t, then he just was. And he looked straight into me with his serious eyes. And he said “You can do this. You’ve got this.” And his eyes were so full of love and confidence that I just took some of it and it made me better.
Good doesn’t cover it
Every little inflection is right
Going in and out of the emotion
Singing, alternately laughing
I think you nailed it
Not like I can tell you this
Good smarties say to leave it
So my compromise as always
Will be to crypt here
Eh. Why not?
Like I can keep everything inside anyway
I think I have an ally. I believe the word ally to be the strongest and best word for what this friend is to me. If I’m correct- and I think I am- then I have an ally.
It seems to me an ally is someone with whom you share the same desire of protecting. It describes the existence of a thing of potential between you both. The break-glass-in-case-of-emergency factor. Perhaps the glass remains unshattered for your entire lives. A waiting potential that if wakened, would bloom into warrior devotion, pushing aside all else until safety is delivered. An ally is what I believe I have made.
I’m not sure I’ve had more than a handful of allies my whole life. It feels actually pretty good.
You caused pain. And it overwhelmed me.
On some level I thought you’d be able to find security in the safety I tried to offer. Space to grow. It never worked that way for you though. You doubted even as I promised.
You felt so much doubt, so much insecurity, you decided it was over then you pushed me. I ended it, but I think it’s not far amiss to say it was a formality, you’d ended it already.
I’m not someone who tries to leave relationships. I’m someone who tries even as it hurts. Because my friends are valuable to me. You still have value. But I can’t help you anymore.
I don’t need to apologize.
But my brain says I should.
arent you sorry?
No I don’t have to
you know you want to
But I don’t need to. I won’t be sorry about I thing I didn’t know about.
Now shut up.
It snowed the afternoon and night before, and lay in a quiet blanket over all. In the morning I rose and went to get a shovel from the garage. I made a path and walked up the driveway. Then I noticed them. Footprints. And I wondered contentedly, who has walked up to my house? Was Dan out there? They tracked from the mailbox to the door. A delivery that did not fit in the mailbox then? But no. Nothing lay on the steps. Nothing was wedged in the door. A single set of tracks leading from the mailbox to the door. A one way trip? That didn’t make much sense. Then it dawned on me. Those are tracks leading from the door to the mailbox.
I had a friend over, and when he left that’s the way he walked. Single set of marks made by feet. Look, there’s the place he turned to make sure the door closed properly. I had to shovel a few of the tracks away (the snow compacts and turns to ice on the steps if I leave it). The rest I left there. They’ll melt away. But for now, there’s footprints on my yard. And other things.
I do not love you.
Be gone with your howling. Crying, keening, leave me be. Wretched thing!
You threaten me in my peace. You are the sound of the throbbing at my temples. You are the warning bell ominous. You are the sense of dread, my aching head, have you no remorse you monster? I do not love you. Go away.