Swimming

I am all over the place.

Sometimes when I am driving in my car, none of the words playing through my speakers have enough merit, so I make up my own. Rhyming couplets in my head, swimming with unspoken thoughts or submerged feelings. I hum a pitchy tune. I turn down the radio. I smoke a cigarette, swimming, swimming, swimming.

While patiently, your world still bleeds, who should be your one? Oh, I’m not the one.

Sometimes in my down-time, I pray I will start work earlier. It is chaos when I’m alone with my thoughts, and all my determination and strength flee through the open window. Not just in reference to that someone I can’t seem to let go of (4 of Pentacles anyone?) but all the threads in my life are tangled and unhappy. The perfectionist in me just wants to arrange them all, side by side, according to color, in a pretty plastic box, then close it and walk on to a new task. I cannot…at least not yet.

I dreamed of fabrics last night. Not only that, but ball gowns. Of all colors and styles. They all felt luxurious, satins and taffetas and silks, a rainbow of colors waiting patiently for my choice. Frustration built as I tried to find the perfect one, the best one. The one I wanted. I could not find it, and I found myself, thoroughly vexed, on the first floor of the 5-story building, holding the hand of my small child, one who doesn’t exist in real life. He had curly brown hair, and I kept running my fingers through it. Parting it like a sea. Losing myself in it. Then I awakened.

I am not broken; the healing is usually the worst pain of the process. I am healing.

I don’t need words right now. I need a warm hand on the small of my back, a tightening embrace, a kiss bestowed by firm lips on my ear, my nose, maybe even my clavicle. I need to feel something other than the prison of my thoughts, the scabbing of my heart, the distance I’m putting between myself and everyone because, really, I don’t need words. I don’t need advice. I don’t need facts spewed at me. These are all things I know, as they are firmly planted in my brain (rooted to the dirt). These are the only things anyone seems to have to offer, and my fingers are plugging my ears. Not a tender word spoken. Not a one.

A broken heart is never healed with logic.

Love,
Amanda

I gift you one cyber hug, to be used whenever needed.

ryn: I honestly didn’t want to get it either, even though it was too late for me. But now it’s been out for awhile and it’s still good and all that. The side effects do suck, I’ve heard. But those pass and the lasting benefits are totally worth it. HPV can cause cervical cancer. That’s what the shot is for; it guards you against some of the most common strands that can result in cancer.

ryn: But hey, since you’ll be with Dustin forever and ever, you probably don’t need it. 🙂