being

being with some people is like pushing two ripe pieces of fruit together. the skin bruises across the points of contact. the flesh opens, splits. the juice runs out, and you lick it off your fingers and you taste it.

i am wearing a shirt with little tiny bunnies on it. they are upside down and i can see them clearly like that.

one day, i want to have a child. and i think that's ok. that day, however, is not today. that place is not here. it is in no way aligned with the life i am living, the place that i am, the person that i am. i am ok with this.

christmas usually makes me deeply sad. there is something about it that hovers over me, ominous and dark and ugly and i wait for it to pass. this year, it moved quietly over me, and now, it's another year until the next. this makes me happy.

i am staring down the barrel of the end of this year. i cannot articulate how happy this makes me, that this year is almost done; that i survived it, that i made my way out the other end, that i am still human, all too human, that the carnage is relative to the growth, that i have learned from my mistakes (a bit, i guess). the solidity of my thoughts, my self, my being, and my ... understanding? has grown. it's a long way from wise, but i feel that it's progress. and this year, over, moves me that little bit further away from the tentacles that wrapped around me.