roman candle lightening love
the rain pours down in intermittant bursts, the sound and smell permeating my house in creeping tendrils, reminding me of things i always fear i'm going to lose.
i feel like something's shifted in me, that something unnecessary and hindering has finally broken. i've been too damned tired for too long; too afraid that some small reminder will send me over the edge, force me to tears at the most inopportune moment.
who the fuck cares if i cry in the middle of a shopping mall?
i was so certain that i'd figured everything out, that i'd learned how to ask. instead, i'm beginning to understand that i've simply realized that i don't know how, but am finding my way as surely as a blind man in a dark room.
i worry about what making it past this obstacle will mean. i hear my mother- the way i did when i was younger- laughing girlishly, telling me that worry gets you nowhere. i always wondered what she meant. some days i still do. but i think now i am beginning to understand how it all works.
call me and i'll prove it.