Hot Soup as the Leaves Change

This week I have split pea soup, chili, and chicken-and-rice soup. It is a fluid week, in more ways than one.

I’m able to stay in Denver through October. We’ll see what happens come November.

Images swim before my waking eyes…I miss ignorance. I sleep a lot lately. I’ve been avoiding friends. I’m not really depressed, but rather I’m feeling as if I’m poor company. I don’t want to burden others. Matt and I slept a lot over the weekend-him from actual exhaustion, and me from lack of willingness to process consciousness. When I’m awake I’m watching parades of stories about women in power, struggling. I watch the moon lately. I think of Dorothy Torkelson and a story I wrote as a kid about the moon and a car accident. So many competing ideas and influences…it’s dizzying.

I went on a walk today, for an hour and a half. I wandered, watching the sun set and the moon rise. My body is strong at higher elevations. Is my mind?

It’s small details. A noise I didn’t recall before, the way his hands shook, how everyone turned away from the horror that was my secret. I’m not vengeful, but I’m not benign either. I feel anger. It’s the slow, simmering boil of years of outrage. Disbelief. How did these things happen?

It’s hard not to turn the anger inwards, where it is cozy and familiar. I should have told someone when I was younger. I shouldn’t tell anyone now, that no good can come from the light of day. Words from an old teacher ring in my ears, that I will realize it’s a phase, and I’ll get over it sooner or later. It isn’t a big deal, I’ll let it go.

Part of that is true, that living in the mire of it is a phase of sorts. There are days now where I walk around the world as one of the people, blending and mixing without any lines drawn to separate me. And there are the times like today, where I hear Jim from my past louder than Steve from my couch, and I misplace reality.

I have goals for the week that I must accomplish.

It’s already 2am. Tomorrow night I have a date. I hope I can embody normality…as much as I ever can, anyways.

I painted my toes and I’m trying not to pick my lips apart. Breathing deeply. Calm.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s