There are moments on some days, usually round late afternoon, that my speed train brain whips into turbo mode, and I get sad. Sad – but not sure why. I could collect all the thoughts that whiz by, and blame it on the collective negativity – but it feels more complicated and runs deeper than that.
This roll out into 2015 has left me dwelling on the parts of 2014 that I never quite wrapped up. I feel like I didn’t get to put any luggage down and I have been dragging it all around one sluggish heavy movement at a time. Weighted. Slow.
I think in poetry and stare at the moon like it belongs to me. Escape in the wind and the rain and make wishes. I wish that people were nicer to each other, and that I didn’t always feel so… Separated.
I wish that my mind didn’t make so many others feel uncomfortable. I also wish that other people weren’t so easy to make uncomfortable.
I feel like my insides are not contained in my skin. I feel like I am spread out all over all my favourite places and in my favourite smells and faces. Memories I suppose. I live in them. Good and bad.
I spill love, and find reasons to find beauty in the broken and the flawed. Because it is there. Like in the wild haired faces of the hippies and the red cheeked children before they learn that their parents aren’t perfect. When love is as simple as love letters and silly smiles.
I adore the imperfection in others but my own makes me feel inadequate, and impossible to save.
Mom about to turn 35 and I am no more in control than when I was 21. The only difference is that somewhere in those years I forgot how to give a shit. Most days. When I do care, I hide it well. Just not well enough today.
What do I deserve? I ask my self often. Do I deserve the wreck that is my brain and the sewn up half baked heart that I have? It’s a fair question. Karma is a bitch. And I am Karma’s bitch.