been a long time old friend, and now that i am certain no one is reading you anymore, I feel suddenly compelled to detox my mind. in my mind today were so many memories of my other life. or, at least, a-nother life. the life i lived in high school, filled with an acetic hatred of my peers, friends, and ultimately myself. the life i wish i lived in high school tagged along to drag out the precious memoies of should-have-but-was-afraid-to moments, or rather years. this to be interupted by the voice of my husband. i am rescued, only to reel into other me. other me is the girl that i see whenever i look at another person. particularly the female other persons. she tells me about the wonderful time she is having and the dreams that were meant for my life, the unfulfilled love affairs, the music, the smoky night clubs with my cigarette only and a piano. the soul that panders entirely to self and desire, with no thought of regret. the writer, the traveler, the learner, they are all there smiling smugly. in particular i see the form of the one i love in secret. he haunts me like a ghost.
he is my future. my mystery. i cannot decide if he is real...or if i ought to admit that he isn't.
i see that my season is gone. why did god take it from me? did i take it from myself? there is no taste to satisfy here, on this point i can have no rest. my talent. as milton said, (how strongly that burns within me) it is death to hide. i wonder if my talent is merely a fabrication. for i find no solace in my husband, no encouragement there. i used to believe that i needed only to be strong and the rest would come. i do not believe that anymore. not today.
today i believe that the lies everyone told me are not lies. i built my confidence in a sandbox, and it disappeared beneath me. all the longing within me cannot produce a reality, a realization. perhaps it was grace that allowed me to be passed by every time the wind blew, and i was consious each time it did. i saw it pick the others up, the ones closest to me. it carries them still and i can only stand on the ground and point. point it out to myself, as though this were the sacred task. and yet i am not alone. not even i believe that. the one with me will stand at my side and with joy allow me to gaze upon my unfulfilled dreams, and explain to me that they matter not.