and here i uttered a great sigh, and sink down into the mossy ground of my own thoughts. my own being. the night after was long, and i didn't sleep well. at 4:54 am i woke up, pulled on sweats, and my feet hit the pavement along the roads of a certain suburb in dallas. the thoughts rushed and a swirled, hung in midair, and dove right out and in and out and in...

i ran.

i ran.

no, see... i don't DO that, unless forced. compelled. the compulsion was... a combination of terror, ecstasy, desperation and delight. i made it through the dare. i did it. life is by no means perfect or what i expect. perhaps there are yet unforeseen consequences, but i feel like i can move forward for the FIRST TIME EVER since, well, i left italy.

it's not as if i didn't physically move forward before, i suppose... i certainly took actions that i felt were necessary to build the life i needed to live, but until now, i was not connected or certain. there will always be doubts in my life, but, now i feel reconnected and in control again.

control is illusory, i know, but i know i own myself again, and it will take a lot to shake loose my grasp. this time.


the first one

i could possibly be the only person in the library right now. possibly. or, it may be that i simply can't even process the presence of anyone else. gwen stefani is bouncing through my headphones, and i drown myself in the senseless lyrics, facebook, and random google searches.

i just don't want to think about what i should be doing anymore. i so very, very tired tonight.

i have more guilt in my bones than any catholic. it's almost inexpressible. it tinges every breath and step, every thought and mindless word i speak. it's soaked deep down into every nerve, and i don't even know how to wring it out.

all i can think of tonight is that i finally need to start talking again. this is me, writing, with no particular aim, in the fashion that is now so popular. i don't intend for this to be some sort of cute newsletter, or political ramble, this is not where i'll post great knitting patterns or my opinions on breastfeeding. all of the above could happen here, or something completely different.

simply and slowly, the words pour out through my fingers and onto the blankness of this screen. somewhere between the wrenching pain in my heart and the muddle in my head are words to say.