tension.

May 29, 2009

in seventeen days i get to board a plane and fly across the world and into another hemisphere. the truth of that makes my heart ache a little. the idea of returning to that beautiful, dusty place where the air seems to swallow me up creates within me a deep sense of eagerness. my arms yearn to be filled with those lovely souls who walked into my heart just as surely as i walked into thier world. i am hopeful that my hands and feet will serve well. i am confident that my spirit will be inexplicably filled. there is a figurative family awaiting me…one that has loved me so well and one i sincerely pray i, in return, am able to to offer even a portion of that love. a gladness rests within me.

tonight, at a backyard barbeque, i sat quietly. watching people i knew. i watched and i saw them laughing with one another, i saw them cramming hot dogs cradled in bread and smothered with mustard into their mouths, i saw them peeling labels off beer bottles and playfully throwing a small girl into the air. i watched as they met neighbors and talked to dogs. as i watched tonight i heard people talking about weddings and mexican vacations, i heard people talking about the weather and riding bikes. i saw friends and lovers. an ordinary night, for sure. tonight, at a backyard barbeque, i saw a figurative family christen a new picnic table. a sadness grew within me.

now i am sitting alone in my bedroom, puzzled. why does it seem safer to walk into another world than into a backyard? why have i chosen the role of a distant cousin in the figurative family? at what point did i decide it was better for this world if i chose to play small? when did i begin to believe that fading away is what others want me to do?

in seventeen days i get to board a plane and fly across the world and into another hemisphere. why is it that the girl i will be as i step off that plane is the girl i want to be here?

tonight i am regretful and deeply grateful. lonely and yet never alone. belonging and yet not fitting.

i wonder if this will always be me.

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a muzzled me.

May 12, 2009

i have a list. a list of moments, people, feelings, and thoughts that i would like to write about. my mind is full of beautiful images. my heart is full of painful realities.  there are things inside of me that i am trying to understand. at least understand enough to get outside of me. alone at night, in the darkness of my room i lie on my back and wonder what it is that i want to say. i have been quiet for a long time. the silence has been necessary perhaps [although annoying, i’m well aware, to the reading type], but it has not been comfortable. i am comfortable when i speak. i am comfortable when words are loyal and i can properly arrange them. writing and share and creating with words gives me something to offer…and i want so badly to offer something. and lately i have offered nothing, it seems. i feel defeated and tired.

i feel defeated and tired, but i haven’t fought back. these past few months, in many ways, i have simply given up. i sit down, jot a few words, and feeling completely uncreative, i quit. i walk away.

this morning i battled. this morning i have sat for hours working persistently at writing something out. and it’s awful. it says nothing that i want to say. yet. it conjures up no image. so far. it’s a poor reflection of what’s inside of me. right now. but i’m encouraged. because somewhere inside of me i have become sick of it. sick of not knowing how to say anything. i’m ready to fight. to struggle. and i can’t wait to offer it.