The war is over or is it? Do I know you as a dirty innocent thing yet? A discarded soft child forgotten by your god? A picture frame made of wilted flowers?
I want this daring to slow down amidst chaos... to reach for one another to say, “Hello, I am here, I don’t have the answer, but I will stand with you.”
What emotion do you feel? What does your body want to do? Do you want to cry and moan? Do you feel like yelling, pounding pillows, or stomp-dancing?
I know that one day I will meet someone who loves me truly. Someone who knows how to properly love. That’s the thing about young love: we’re too naive.
I surrender. I don’t have the sparkle in my eye that says, it’ll be okay in the end. Tonight, it’s not okay. I’m not okay.
I lasted half a day of dance classes on the first day. The second day, I lasted less than 90 minutes. Not only did walking on gentle sand feel like sharp gravel between the skin of my soles and fascia, but the vision in my good eye was deteriorating into the kind of blur you’d need Coke-bottle ...