January 2011
16 posts
“Now listen, life is lovely, but I Can’t Live It. I can’t even explain. I know...”
– — Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait in Letters (via bunnymitford) (via awritersruminations, bunnymitford) (via libraryland)
1 tag
A cool lightheadedness began to steal over her, transporting her body and her mind sat trapped and watched. A quiver began, shaking slightly and increasing in amplitude from a spot at the core of her ribcage. A runaway train, this was - no way to keep it from picking up speed in spite of trying, hard, to ignore it or switch it up or get past it, well on its way. She wondered how it’d be,...
A lot of things have hit home today in hard ways. Hearing the vet talk about Vera like she’s minutes from gone (I can’t stand the thought of losing somebody I love. Sorry, I can’t think about her like that. No fucking way), backing up Cody freaking out about going to the hospital. I’m trying (and I think succeeding) at coming off as supportive and optimistic and helping him...
My heart kind of hurts at the thought of how right we had things - why have it so good just to have it be lost? It’s not so much the fact of the loss, but the idea that something so good could still be the victim of random chance, that wonder and delight doesn’t protect from chaos.
“She also said “we got things right” meaning life and love, family...”
– Diane Kyker
“She always said ” this is interesting’…when things were pretty...”
– Glenna Alderson
Just curious but… what would you have wanted me to do tomorrow? Maybe I’ll go hiking or something. Who knows.
“It is necessary to be serious with the serious, but not with the not serious....”
– Plato
They used to put us to bed every night with snuggles, from when I was little until I was 13 or so, and from time to time after. That’s a great time of night - getting a chance to catch up, talk about things, in that open mindset that comes late at night or early in the morning one on one with someone. That’s when we were closest and most honest, that and in the car with dad. I love...
I’m going to choose to believe that I’m going to be held accountable for this, and also given credit: that when I write about the wonderful things, they’ll be appreciate by the one that they matter most too. Unsubstantiated belief: faith. A reason to celebrate the good things.
So angry. So hurting. So down.
I hate being so down that being down gets me down. I hate being so frustrated with it that I just want to hide. I hate not being able to explain it. I just want to go to bed and wake up in February. Or, you know, in some alternate universe where things are ok again. Why.
Feeling shitty. Being alone, late at night, is the worst.
The regrets are what kills me. I never wanted to have any. I always figured, bound in naivete, that I’d be all lifetime movie and know exactly when she was going to go, accept it like a champ and take the last months/year/whatever and make it all worth it. Fuck.
I regret being at camp the last summer. The pay wasn’t worth it,...
The feeling of the chilly fan-blown air brings back memories of her: hardcore, happy, sleeping outside the tent with eyebrows and upper lip covered in frost. It’s on so that I can sleep even though it’s winter: the ringing silence feels too alone, stuck in my own thoughts.
It’s only a hidden blessing if you realize something that you did not know, before it’s too late. We knew how good we had it: that’s what made us great.
Funny moments from aunties about the wedding:
Di: “Well, I hope he doesn’t expect us to come!”
Nancy (re vows): “Couldn’t they just use the standard ones??”
Glad to know that I’m not crazy: and that, in fact, I’m one of a crowd with how I feel about all this nonsense and craziness (we all want his happiness: we all know this won’t all be...
Relating to people: stories told and untold.
Riding in the car, flirting cause it’s fun, chatting about everything and nothing, this boy I had just met threw me for such a loop. We were a little confused about where we were meant to go - a few short directions and we were off, trying to decide which house to end up at. He said “Well, aren’t we going to your mom’s...
