Aug 2016
The weight of the wait is a wear that I hate to wear.
Gives great alliteration, though.
I'm so ready for all the things only a tiptoe away, but I can't have them. Nine days, I repeat religiously in my head, like a prayer from my own personal bipolar bible to keep my head on straight.
I can have everything in nine days.
Its a madness and a sort of vibration of my slumbering monster, old and weak but still ever-present, to be so close but yet so far. All my dreams are literally at my fingertips yet I cannot touch them. Not my friends, not my family, not my love, not my blue. All the things that are things of greatness are stuck at the end of this pole dangling far away and I am no good at balancing. All I get to do is stare and wait.
He's less than that ever-looming 2,000 miles away.
The blue is 30 edits and a read-through away from being possibly a completed manuscript.
The loves of my life are so close and ******* Christ I want them so bad but...
The work needs to be done. The class needs to be done. The appointments need to be done. The dishes need to be done. The unpacking needs to be done.
Their is a sense of comfort in the whole thing, that everything is so **** close, that the longest weight of my life is almost over.
I need this. I need my fingers banging against a keyboard, and I need the man I love most banging against me. Yes, I said it. Banging. So what if its gratuitous, its been over four months. I deserve the things that make me happiest. I have learned how to be alone, I have proven my ability to be a strong individual able to take care of her ******* self.
Now, stubborn world, give me back what is mine.
The blue can come back into focus next week, and he will come not long after. Their will be a quelling of the weary weight that I have been waiting to shed.
The summer has been hard. Good on me, I toughened up quite a bit, but hard nonetheless. I know its been a little ******* everyone. But the two things I love are adamant and strong, as am I, and we'll find each other again. Just was an annoying but necessary hiatus.
My mind can breathe in its home again, on the page and keyboard, and my body can be held in the arms of the most fantastic man I've ever met. The weight of my impatience and excitably and anxiousness is heavy, but it made my body and mind so strong my adamant nature is ready to take on the world, with partner in crime and writing in hand.
I got this, no matter the weight.
Gives great alliteration, though.
I'm so ready for all the things only a tiptoe away, but I can't have them. Nine days, I repeat religiously in my head, like a prayer from my own personal bipolar bible to keep my head on straight.
I can have everything in nine days.
Its a madness and a sort of vibration of my slumbering monster, old and weak but still ever-present, to be so close but yet so far. All my dreams are literally at my fingertips yet I cannot touch them. Not my friends, not my family, not my love, not my blue. All the things that are things of greatness are stuck at the end of this pole dangling far away and I am no good at balancing. All I get to do is stare and wait.
He's less than that ever-looming 2,000 miles away.
The blue is 30 edits and a read-through away from being possibly a completed manuscript.
The loves of my life are so close and ******* Christ I want them so bad but...
The work needs to be done. The class needs to be done. The appointments need to be done. The dishes need to be done. The unpacking needs to be done.
Their is a sense of comfort in the whole thing, that everything is so **** close, that the longest weight of my life is almost over.
I need this. I need my fingers banging against a keyboard, and I need the man I love most banging against me. Yes, I said it. Banging. So what if its gratuitous, its been over four months. I deserve the things that make me happiest. I have learned how to be alone, I have proven my ability to be a strong individual able to take care of her ******* self.
Now, stubborn world, give me back what is mine.
The blue can come back into focus next week, and he will come not long after. Their will be a quelling of the weary weight that I have been waiting to shed.
The summer has been hard. Good on me, I toughened up quite a bit, but hard nonetheless. I know its been a little ******* everyone. But the two things I love are adamant and strong, as am I, and we'll find each other again. Just was an annoying but necessary hiatus.
My mind can breathe in its home again, on the page and keyboard, and my body can be held in the arms of the most fantastic man I've ever met. The weight of my impatience and excitably and anxiousness is heavy, but it made my body and mind so strong my adamant nature is ready to take on the world, with partner in crime and writing in hand.
I got this, no matter the weight.
