No, this is important. I've got to speak.
I've got to say it hurts. I've got to say it's okay that it hurts. And things I've never ever before felt or experienced are hitting me in the face. Sometimes in a good way, like fresh water. Sometimes like sandpaper, or a sledgehammer. But it's important, because both of those change me.
The spring time is making me feel the change more. But it's also nostalgic, and I remember so fondly what I was up to last spring time. The sun rises up, I run, run, run, run. Electric blue shorts for today. To all nostalgic places, as if I'll run smack dab into the missing piece inside one of those memories and be ready and different and change. I will be change. My legs are asking me where we're going. I don't know, I tell them. We're going to be change. We can't stay here long.
1. I listen to the same music I listened to all through Disneyworld. Air conditioning shoofing over us as we find the condo, safe from the humidity. i think in time with Warwick Avenue in the backseat.
2.The sun blasts through the trees and up through the pavement and I was walking to work, wearing the same perfume, newly cutoff nice pants to be thready shorts, and wet curly hair.
1. The waves roll in and out, it's sticky and salty and sandy. I'm ready to go back to Enclave 304. Itchy for someone. Garrett is home.
He's not getting married yet, no, it's only been a week.
Sometimes it's like my eyes don't recognize me. Sometimes it's like I'm not really moving my body, and I just end up places without actually walking there. Sometimes it's like I'm writing the same two sentences over and over again, but they are the complete opposite of each other. Sometimes it's like I'm fresh out of a dryer womb, where I was so warm but so curled up; being slopped out I'm awkward and cold and don't know how to use my limbs.
Now is my time to run, I keep thinking. Lots of parts of me have no freakin idea how. My muscles are weak from lack of use and they don't even know where to go.
But all of these things are just important.
That's what I have to say. It's just all important. I'm growing and learning so much stuff--however anguishing the accompaniment of this chunk of my life.
Yesterday church made me giggly again for the first time in so, so long. I whooped and could hardly sit still during the closing prayer for glee, and it felt good to be jubilant about the gospel even when my life is turned inside out and the guts are being whipped around in the tornado. It's a good thing I've long since accepted my calling in life as an emotional nut job--I don't even notice people being weirded out by me feelin the Spirit with jubilation and laughing instead of tear drops sometimes. It felt good to be in the sunshine, walking and talking out loud to myself and God. I tell Him everything all the time now. This is important.
Do you get it? It's just all important. This time is important. I've got to stretch so wide it busts me open so I can be fertile for seeds to be planted. I've got to blast myself open over again each day instead of trying to crap my way through a temporarily easier road to avoid pain because when I'm blasted open is when I'm listening most closely. It's when I can hear most clearly.
I'm being slapped in the face with sledgehammer, sandpaper, and fresh water and being told to PAY ATTENTION.
I'm gonna do it.