Stillness takes over. Your words flow cooly, unsteady but consistant. I take them in slowly, sip after sip. Filling with things I didn't know I was looking for. Our fingertips, like magnets, keep finding each other. Leaving me breathless on impact. I feel dizzy and controlled.
We continue for hours. Spinning, careful and unfiltered. When I trip up you take over. We make sense, of things, the past and each other. Its different than I imagined. More than I expected.
You've been gone for hours and I still can't catch my breath.
Filled with nullity.
Aching for more.
Tonight I lie backbone to floorboard.
So I can feel again.
“That was the day she made herself the promise to live more from intention & less from habit.” – amy rubin flett
I saw this today over on my friend Sam's beautiful blog. She snagged this Chuck Palahniuk quote from Invisible Monsters...
"Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everybody I've ever known."
This statement resonated so strongly within me the second I read it. It was not the first time I had ever read this quote, however, it was the first time I really heard it. It doesn't match exactly what I have been feeling lately, but it comes very close.
These days I have found myself, very often, affixed to another person for various amounts of time. Searching and learning, sometimes together, and often from each other. Not being able to spend more than a day with out a certain friend for no reason other than the sheer impossibility of functioning without their input, suggestion or simple presence in even a small part of my day. When this happens I tend to call them "my person." I have been known, at times, to say to some one "you're my person right now." And this is a big thing for me.
This, to me, means that for whatever reason, at this particular time, our wavelengths have paralleled. We are meant to be together, this year, this month, this weekend. Sometimes, with out immediate vindication. But I always give in to this particular need. (An odd practice for my independent spirit, but it has yet to fail me.) Even when the unions aren't apparent until many months later, I am always able to look back and realize that I couldn't have gotten through particular times or situations with out "my person," or visa versa. I try very hard to learn something from everything and everyone I encounter, so these uncontrollable mergers of emotions and personalities are so greatly welcomed. While, at times, I lean into the confusions, the "why now's" and "why them's," I always snap back to the side of trusting my intuitions and take comfort in knowing that I must be exactly where I need to be.
As much as I like to fancy myself a lone wolf, I've got an amazing and beautiful circle of people here. It would be a travesty not to lean in and take advantage of the infinite perspective and support I have available to me from time to time. So, even when I think I am at the height of solitude, feeling strong and independent, I can be pulled back down so quickly and so severely to walk side by side with "my person" for a while. And I can never stay upset for too long, because I always end up with exactly what I need.
Have you ever had a dream so
that it felt like pure agony
to stay awake?
Your hair is a mess and your smile stings. My tongue trips. You say you know what I mean. The time disappears as the words finally slip. You call me out and I stare at the floor. The empty glasses on the table begin to pile like medals. We both chug from our cups, not knowing what to say next. Wondering if we have said too much, or perhaps, not enough. Quick glances suggest that there might be more, but I wont say.
Next thing I know we are on the road. Jammed in a backseat swaying with corners. Your hand finds my knee and decides to stay. I think it feels nice. Right.
I watch your steps as you walk to your door. Careful. Implied.
I try to mimic them as I climb the stairs to my own. But mine are unsteady.
I felt awful today. Physically. Emotionally. I couldnt figure out what it was. Everything I set out to do left me feeling even more frustrated. So I let it in. I accepted the gloom of this day and went with it. I put on extra necklaces and went to the bookstore. My happy place. I walked it over a handful of times. Haunting row after row, stopping every so often reading paragraphs or sometimes pages. Before I knew it I had an armful of books that had intrigued me. The coffee shop was full so I found a corner. A wonderful corner in one of my favorite sections. I read bits of books, discarding the ones I didnt like and piling the ones I wanted. I picked up the last one and the next thing I knew I had read 60 pages and was feeling lighter and a little hungry. I allowed myself to buy three books then took myself to dinner. As I ate and read at my favorite sushi spot I looked around and noticed that the majority of people were on dates (romantic or friendly) there were lots of couples. I was the only one alone tonight. And as I realized this I thought how wonderful it felt to be ok with that. I was more than ok, I was mildly liberated. I had been having an absolutely terrible day that felt unshakable. But it wasnt. I nursed myself, not completely, but much closer to happy. I didnt need to call anyone, I didnt need to cry, I just spent time with myself doing little things that make me happy and I managed to save myself just a little bit. It is small victories like this that make me so grateful to be the person that I am. I think we all need the gloomy days once and a while to allow us to feel the beautiful enormity of the sunny ones.
par·a·chute[par-uh-shoot] noun, verb, -chut·ed, -chut·ing.
a folding, umbrellalike, fabric device for allowing a person, to float down safely through the air from a great height.