Three posts in a row, I’m admitting that tonight may not be for sleeping. But these thoughts they’ve jumped out of a box and they are running and running in a space that for the time being feels unlimiting. It’s probably just a bigger box, but that’s not how it feels for the time being.
I wanted to say D, I read your post, I understand your fear of forgetting. Of being forgotten. People’s live are moving, have moved right by me, and I am left wondering — was there something I could have done different? Should I have demanded their attention?
I saw your dessert flowers bloom and it hit me — how desperately I have been waiting and wanting, inspiration. I read a book, so recently, about the strange things two people do to feel like they’re living; I can’t say I’d go that far, but gosh, is that experience appealing.
I’d like, again, to feel something with such strong sentiments. I’d like to be angry, at a person, not injustice or unfairness or something that actually has reason. I want to be angry at her and the way she giggles, the way she broods unless she’s with him. I want to admit my disgust, my loss of respect, my inability to find that balance I am always (so pointlessly? hopelessly?) seeking?
I want to embody the words of what a stranger-turning-friend said to me, that in my words there is near-perfection. Do you remember saying that? Something about it was worth remembering.
I’d nearly forgotten myself past midnight, the way darkness and the barks of sleepless dogs are soothing. How the still allows me to enter a frame of mind, where I am listening. I don’t listen anymore. I don’t really hear. Trying to be ‘responsible’ ‘reliable’ a damn ‘professional’ for reasons that remain unclear, I am so sad, so damn fucking sad, that these late-night-closer-to-morning sessions are just about a thing of the past. But I’m here tonight, just visiting. Remembering how it used to be. Visiting.
There’ll be much to regret in the morning, the burn in my eyes being the least of them. The work that didn’t get done, those damn annoying deadlines looming. But I’ll be glad for this. To feel this. I hadn’t realized how much of this I’d been missing.
And while here, while asking answer-less questions to life, I keep going back and thinking, of a womb of a friend, and how inside of her, life is growing, again. You’re bat shit crazy my friend, but I love you for it. I love where you are in life, I admire how your family is growing. I am in awe of you S, in motherhood, and the life that you are living. I love how you’re going in a direction that is just about the opposite of mine, but somehow we keep finding means of reconnecting and always, without fail, it makes me smile. Damn these miles. I hope you think of me too, once in a while. There’s always a fear that I’ll be remembered less and less and for me, that’s hard to digest.
It’s so quiet.
For the first time in weeks, I really do feel alright. I wonder, if this would be better, if I could share this feeling, in silence, with another, who’d crawl into bed with me, we’d mold ourselves to sleep and not even need to say, good night.