how are you?

there’s a conversation to be had but the one-sided facelessness of it saddens me unexpectedly. i stare at the numbers, the time, the void, and though it’s clear there’s no intent to cause tears they come because there is care that stands untouchable washing over me in speechlessness.

what is the value of sharing the truth of my heart in such blind manner? like this.

dragging old stories with me like collectibles, i feel bathed in a sense of contradicting worthlessness. the collectibles are a soap that leave me feeling unclean and ugly. though i know this isn’t true there are days i go about polishing them, taking baths with them, and existing in the world wearing a perfume that smells much like lavender because i can’t let anyone see how much pain i’m in, how ridiculous my lists, buckets, and wishes.

i’ve learned that if you smell like love long enough then that’s what you will become and be for others. it doesn’t need validation but it does need care and self-care can only take you so far before the humility of being alone for so many years leaves you secretly on your knees seeking every ounce of gratitude the air can offer to breathe through another day.

the courage to speak to me with a voice and a face is something i’ve waited for patiently, if not unrealistically optimistically. how does one go about adjusting a bias that keeps them alive? how does one go about the activity of self-soothing when thumbs are off hitch-hiking in dreamland leaving nothing to suck or soothe the need for this mouth to taste the blinding passion that exists just one ethereal ecosystem away from his fingers.

i’m over protective with my heart and no one except him can get close to it. each day it feels like i’m withering to dust without the tools to express what it means to be a flower. i’m constantly embarrassed to be a gardener tending to weeds that i spend a good amount of time pretending will produce a flower field. i sit in silence to realize that reality can’t be so beautiful yet am reconciled that i want it with him just the same because it is that real. i sit in silence knowing how cruel it is to exist without the ability to truly express what existence means. i’m pretty sure the kids are ok and that my mothering has grown in patience. i’m kicking ass in the work world. i laugh at the temporal side of things while striving each day to be at least a speck better than the day before. like everyone else i keep it moving, ensuring to uphold my side of the spiritual bargain to love everyone i can with everything i have. sometimes i freeze, close down and that shit doesn’t happen, but five days out of seven i tend to the needs of others because it fills me up in places i haven’t figured out how to fill on my own and when i’m on my knees i confess it’s enough because confession concedes there’s struggle to believe.

maybe that sums up how i am.

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