true story
because stress cleaning isn't enough,
& my nature is contradictory of all things, & even itself
(at times)
****
i like it, sometimes, when i turn everything off in the apartment & just listen to the sounds around me.
i like it when i turn the air down, even though i'm not all that warm, & then crawl under my covers.
i like it when i can hear you breathing on the other end of the phone line.
i like it when i have an idea & don't forget it.
i like laying on my stomach, eye-level with my plants, & pretending i can see them growing.
i like knowing their names - cyclamen & anthurium.
i like that i can smell you after you've gone.
i like driving with the top of my car down, listening to the same song on repeat.
driving an hour to find a restaurant, only to not remember where it's at.
simplicity?
or,
sitting when it's quiet, thinking about how full my heart is right now.
about how things are feast or famine.
are they, or is that just a series of impulses, some kind of electric energy, sent from my belly to my heart to my brain telling me things that aren't true?
i
m u s t
c o n t r o l
i t.
maybe everything is middle grey, like the card in my camera bag, & there's no contrast that isn't created.
it doesn't really exist.
and:
emotions can be boxed, neatly cubed, put away like clean laundry,
but:
only for only so long.
my heart is disorganized.
& i want to like it that way.
everything is changing. there is no explanation. when things are quiet i want them loud, when they are loud, i long for peace.
& for the second time in my life (only the second! imagine it!) i feel like i've grabbed onto something i can hold for more than just a fleeting moment... after my heartbeat slows... after my mind settles.
& i don't know how to deal with it.
i know it is good, but beyond that, i cannot fathom it. it is disorganized. beautiful. messy. cannot be boxed or cubed. cannot be categorized,
defies boundaries,
defies what my head can handle.
i don't like the way that i feel like i'm out of sync - in everything, not just in regards to this.
to summarize these ramblings:
i like the way you make me feel like this.
i'm sorry if i never make sense
11:50 p.m. - 2004-03-15
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