confusion
june 17, 2008

usually when i feel upset or alone - when everyone is out of touch or out of reach, i write. but i've been avoiding that so much lately because so much has happened. it's almost as if i've been avoiding confronting everything by avoiding writing down these words and these thoughts. it's futile because they chase me anyway, in every thing i do ... some form or another. everything is different now.

what i wish i had right now, is that long conversation you have with a friend in an all-night diner or a twenty-four hour coffee shop. shooting the breeze eases its way into philosophical views about broad topics that end up applying to your very specific situation by the end of the night. you tear into it, and analyze everything you could have. you finish where you started, and nothing really changes, but you feel better anyway.

i wish i could unload this all.
i feel like such a child - asking to be carried the rest of the way. but at times like these, it really feels like there's no one left to listen. my emotional investments have made me so poor. how much of me is left to give to my future?

i sat down today (after how many eventful months of not writing) with the intention of writing down some of the best things i've felt recently, hoping that those thoughts could carry me to sleep tonight. but you can see how well that's worked out so far.

you running to the door of the classroom when you saw me enter - your tiny arms wrapping around my legs. the way you'd pout when i was too tired to play with you at recess. being called a chicken by a five year old. laughing with you on the playground.

how fast my heart was beating the first time. too scared to open my eyes and look out at the audience when i sang. the brief, unsure silence when i finished. the applause. the shouting. invitations and congratulations.

and the second time around when fear disappeared halfway through. pulling the microphone closer to me and singing for myself. my own songs.

sleeping ...
more to come, hopefully.