"I COULD GIVE IT A HUG IF IT WASN'T SO ABSTRACT"
I keep thinking about that one deadjournal post from 2002:
Life is so fucking wonderful. Everything is so wonderful, I came home tonight and danced in circles. I smiled at all my moms friends and gave them hugs and they told me how much I was growing up. I laughed and I skipped and I, for once in a long while, smiled for no reason at all. I never want this feeling to go away and if it does....then I'm damned but that's all right. I want to take the sky and kiss it. It's so beautiful. People are so beautiful.
Life is so fucking wonderful. Life is like dancing as a [ ], when I was six and seven and eight (never after nine), how I used to do little plays in the retirement community park pool, prancing through the sweat-sour water for everyone to watch--I was a mermaid, I was a ninja, I was everything except a child. I came home tonight and I danced with my bird. I am a child now, except I am not, and I forgot how to dance in the pool. I can only move freely when my bird is watching.
I'm pretty sure things are going to be okay, because they have to be. If not, I am damned, but as long as I have my beloved by my side and my family and my cat I'll be fine, except everyone besides me is getting older, moving closer and closer to that big sky mouth. I don't know how to write without comparing it to anything else and I don't know how to love without comparing it to anything else and no words can capture the vividity of my love. I'm pretty scared of it—of my love and how humongous! and! giant! I can become even underneath the ol' crushing weight of the universe that spreads across my chest every night, settling on the breastbone to crumble it down into little powder for God to snort. (Sorry God! I know you don't demonize addicts anyway, though. Right? Please?) I just love and love and love relentlessly. I think the people I love are finally the people deserving of it, and I think the people I love are deserving of the uncrushing universe—a lighter world, like a dress that swishes and sways when you twirl! The thing is though they do not receive this world. Life is not so fucking wonderful. And how can I fix it? How do I perform heart surgery over telehealth? I want to at least be the IV (not four—I'm more people than that!) but I'm stuck in Michigan. At least it's not the Southwest anymore but I miss the big city.
I don't know but its like. Here we are at the center of it all. I was the tallest kid in class, so tall—4'4 by 4 (a dooming!). It was easy to use me because it wasn't easy to break me. I was also the tallest mountain in the desert and the widest planet in the solar system and maybe too heavy for surgery. Here we are at the center of it all—the core of the largest planet and the inner cave of the mountain, the stomach and the wombless womb. I wish I could keep everyone safe inside of me in a normal way but I am eternally hollow. Here I am at the center and I just saw a ghost but I think the ghost was my cat from when I was 9. Is anyone listening? I'm scared, mom.
And no I'm not done actually. I miss listening to music in the car with my cousins back when they could stand to look at me. I miss when I wanted to go to art school so terribly that I'd fantasize about running away from my school and begging art school on my knees to let me in (later: take me back!) and now in the most shocking turn of events ever it's religion school I'm begging to escape to. I don't think religion is escape it's more like a building block—one of the various glass bottle shards in the ugly mosaic beginner's craft of me—but I think I am trying to distract myself by burying myself in the world just like nana did. Sometimes I wonder if God loved us so much They stopped with us and said "this is enough for me!" or if They kept making worlds and starting new projects impulsively like I do. Unlike me I don't think God has abandoned his project(s) I just hope he isn't too busy with them to speak to me at Meeting this week.
Oh yeah!!! I went to Meeting last week!!!!!! First time ever. I dissociated the whole time I don't think I was really there nor was I with God nor was I back in the tornado's deceptively sweet chocolate-vanilla swirl—the one that lured me in with ice cream and spit me out like the sourest of toppings (and she always said I was supposed to be there—on top—despite my colossal nature, despite my redirection, my no—)—so at least there's that but this week I really want to be present so I can listen appropriately. I guess my biggest fear with becoming Quaker is that maybe I'll never actually hear that Voice again but I think the point is that you have to keep listening regardless—the crux, the foundation, is hope. God would listen to my no I think, unlike her. I'm realizing some things as I write this like my life before needs to be shed like tired reptile wrappings and I need to give birth to myself (the only way I will ever be able to give birth!) and say THIS IS THE ONLY LOVE I HAVE EVER HAD THAT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE ON THE MOVIES. ON THE SONGS. THIS IS THE ONLY PLACE I HAVE EVER BEEN NOW. THE PAST NO LONGER MATTERS WITH THEM.
Anyway when I went to Meeting, they saw I was new and asked if they could give me a hug. I had never felt a Godly embrace but I think being hugged by so many accepting people is probably the closest I will ever get to one until the day I can hold my beloved in my arms. I want to soar and I want to burrow. I want to get a good grade in oophrectomy, which is normal to want and possible to achieve. And I want the world to be safe. I want everyone to be safe. Why can't everyone be safe?