She

When looking upon them I do believe to see…

What they hoped their message could or should be.

“Let us SAVE you....HELP you…ENLIGHTEN you!!” echo their screams.

Save for that not be all a patient may hear, it seems.

These adamant protesters… OH how they yell and holler and threaten and scare.

To me it feels so awfully sickening and wholly unfair.

“You take a life and sell your soul,” they say.

Or questions of: “How can you be so cold on THIS day?”

And these women, you see, do as they must.

For it is THIS or bust.

A decision not often made with ease, nor clear cut.

Thoughtless it is anything but.

Those whom protest think or pretend or even hope to know…

What they could never fully ever, ever know.

To be a WOMAN, that WOMAN, who is without support. Without a future to give...

Nor the funds to most basically live.

Each one different as they are the same…

I shall not ever name them by name.

For I am Alejandra, the protector.

Matter does it not your creed, ability, nor social sector.

Forever shall I ever…

Fight this fight for something better.

As a woman, an advocate, a friend, and a believer...

I could never help but always see her.

For she is me and I am she.

And I ask thee, with all the heart vested in me, with hopes for what our society could be...IS an abortion all she will ever be?

The Torment of the Lioness

Some of the times I find myself pondering who I am. WHO am I? What....how...when...where...why?? To existence! To fruition! To consciousness! To...me!!

I AM Alejandra. The Great! The Challenger! The protester!

Always wanting and demanding and craving more and more....AND more still. 

Convinced of roaming the plains and forests and jungles of this world as alone is alone is alone. Because I will NOT settle, refuuuuuse to settle for anything that is NOT peace, NOT right as thy rain on thy ground and on thine face, and NOT....me. 

I am loving me as much as could hope to love me. And I love thee as much as I allow myself to love me. And the fear is that I do not and could not....even for all the stars and promises and beautiful words. Not love you. 

Until I adore me

all the more I shall ever see

is what could never be.

The neverending quest. This quest.

I guess it will be as it will be. 

Without you and without me....as anything other than exactly who and what I must and shall ever be:

beautifully, wonderfully, perfectly imperfect....me. 

The Polka Dots from Her Hair

No.....you don't see me.
Nay me.
Never me.
Nor did I ever see me.

Did I not always exist?
Not to me. Nay.
And alas, day by dying day
the answer, it seems, surely becomes....Yay.


'tis given in the way I hope receive it.
Give it to get it.
To get it.
It.

The here.....the now....the...."everything"
Drives it 'round and 'round.
Cause here I am: one with the town.
Becoming one with the ground.

To you I come down.
Dance me. Romance me. Shake the pants off me.
I've been yours as you'll be mine.
Discover that Yay....be thy same as Nay.

Ever

"I just wanna... 
Show you how much I appreciate you.
Wanna show you how much I'm dedicated to you.
Wanna show you how much I will forever be true.
Wanna show you how much you got your girl feelin' good.
Wanna show you how much, how much you're understood.
Wanna show you how much, I value what you say.
Not only are you loyal, you're patient with me babe.
Wanna show you how much, I really care about your heart.
I wanna show ya how much, I hate being apart.
Show ya, show ya, show ya til you're through with me.
I wanna keep it how it is, so you can never say how it used to be"
-B, "Dance For You"


How it used to be.
YOU...are nothing like it used to be.
For YOU are nothing that I'm used to.
Nothing like that which I'd normalized as normal.
Each previous moment is challenged by the next.
I sit in awe of the simplicity. 
Of you. Of me. Of you and me....in this....together.
Here we are.
Together.
Until whenever. 
I can't think of much else that is better.
Ho-rah! 

The Zombies are Coming, the Zombies are Coming!

My brain. MY brain. It strains to regain what once I could claim. Sanity and peace and non-existent thoughts. I have been derailed and what’s more, I did it of my own accord. I DIDN’t choose it, per say, but it chose to let me choose it. It makes as much sense as it should. So here I am again, back to myself. It seems I hadn’t ventured very far and yet I can feel the distance. And closeness. To you. The nearness and newness of you. For do I not feel weakness and fear? Indeed, it is there as it always has been and will be. Necessary like wrenches and foreign like spreads of chocolate. Here I am…naked and exposed to the world. I own it as I know it to be. The truth. MY truth. The only kind I could speak or hope could transpire. And I find myself to not be afraid of that, this truth, because I stare it down eye-to-eye and make it my own. No matter the challenge or outcome or loss. Cause I can lose you, but cannot lose me. This wonderful person I’ve found. Myself. As I always knew I could be. You elevate me to see the coolest and realest version I could ever aspire to be. So you’ll stay as you and I’ll stay as me, and the rest….well, we shall see.

The Wind....blows.

I am numbed. Somehow I’m not quite as I’d imagined myself to be. I am a diluted version of the greatness and hysteria that resides within. Within I am without. On and on the road does go, but somewhere along the line I had to stop running. The breath could no longer be harnessed within these overexerted lungs. These words no longer hold sway and I know not where it is I should lay. In my own arms I am alive and well. Funny how I once thought I knew you so very, very well. Indeed, I do. But, then again, I never did and your silence bites at me like frost. This heart burns as much from tomatoes as it does from the distance between. And the hardest part is knowing that you are doing all you can do and nothing you could not. Only have I the power to adjust the sails I call my own. The wind blows and blows and blows us away from where we once felt so strong. I believed it and knew it and felt it deep in my every bone and very being. That it was you. Just you. For now it is me. Just me. As it always should have been. As I dedicate myself to whatever will be, I can only hope that you leave a piece of you…for me.

Lessons in Diving

Aids me as it abets me.
Saves me and then negates me.
It seems to be not as it should.
For it does not act as I hoped it would.
Where is this peace of which I am told?
Is it wrong of me to act quite so bold?
You love me even when I do not know.
Yet you seem not to act as if it were so.

The time is now, my dear.
For so quickly could it disappear.
And now as I wish you near.
I see it all so very crystal clear.
Your fear...is...my fear.

If you dive, I dive.
As we do to feel alive.
A dream of it, so strong.
As if in an impossible song.
Unimpressive or not.
This, my love, is all we've got.

For being NOThing like you're used to.

"Perfect.

Just as you are."

They told me so. It must be true, I deduced. 

I believed it insofar as they needed me to. 

They. They. They. Them.

And me? Me? And of ME? 

Exiled to the edges of my conscious depths of thoughts. An endless abyss of destructive concepts.

You have everything you need. Within you.

It moves without you. It will be oh-oh-oVER. In a FLASH. IT. Life. IT. it. 

Pull on those bootstraps, they continue. 

I wouldn't. Couldn't. Shouldn't. 

And....today? Indeed, a new day IS to-day. 

For many do I look upon reflections with adoration and appreciation.

For taking the many winding and prolonged journeys.

For having the courage. The beauty. The drive. 

      to refuse that which I refuse.

      to question all that needs questioning. 

      to settle with nothing less than all that is not nothing.

And now the mission reveals itself.

To refuse to settle for anything that generates many questions. Too many questions.

Of "what ifs" and "yeah, buts." 

What if the rationalizations remain, while the priorities merely remain absent?

What if the chips fall where they may and all that was absent was fear?

What if I allow myself to be....perfectly imperfect me? 

What if there were no more "what ifs"?

What IF that day IS to-day??

Indeed, it is. 

...before the dawn.

"So miss him," she wrote. 

I repeat the line over and over and over, demanding perspective and simplistic appreciation.
Settling with some notion of happiness in occurrence, rather than sadness in the means to this end. 

The start? The end? The start? The....end?

Yes. Yes. Yes. YES.

It starts as it ends. 

Ends as it starts. 

My heart starts to recognize it's own parts. 

You revived me as I strive(d) to be whatever I thought you needed me to be.

And alas, I need not you as you need not me.
 I need me.
As me.
Exactly...me. 

Toss the Maps

"This is what it means to be an adventurer in our day: to give up creative comforts of the mind, to realize the possibilities of the imagination. Because everything around us says no you cannot do this, you cannot live without that, nothing is useful unless it's in service to money, to gain, to stability.

The adventurer gives into tides of chaos, trusts the world to support her--and in doing so turns her back on the fear and obedience she has been taught. She rejects the indoctrination of impossibility.

My adventure is a struggle for freedom."

-Off the Map 

And I read this and was reached. By this book I didn't even see coming. 

And I realize it: I have the makings of an adventurer. Hell....I AM an adventurer. I might not be off to Prague, but here I am....exploring my own reality, my own truth, my very makings. Hardly nothing about this pursuit is of comfort, except in the chaos of knowing I am on and off to the better things that come with challenging your deepest held beliefs and understandings of this life.

And I realize this, too: I am ever seeking fellow adventurers. 

It is why I sometimes can't shake this overwhelming disinterest in those who fail to challenge themselves. To strive for something they can't even comprehend. Just that they are displeased and want to know....WHY? For it is the challenge of this discomfort and discontentment that spins this world of ours 'round and 'round and 'round and forever 'round. Or rather that it makes as much sense of the spinning as is possible or necessary.

I am realizing my own meaning of faith. I used to think I had none because my Sundays were spent elsewhere. I was wrong and I continue to be wrong. And for every wrong I make so very many rights. Sometimes the wrongs feel so right, but maybe a year or two on. And I have it to spare. Because time is of no importance, really. Because surely it's not what you're doing or how long it takes....it's HOW you do it. 

I choose positive outlooks. I choose unknown destinations and chaotic moments. And connections. The realist of REAL real real connections. The kind that take your breath away and implore you to think: "Holy shit, this IS what it's about. Right here. Right now. This person. This place. This moment. This is life and I want to live to know all of it." 

This Way

GP,

I took this photo in the very moment I realized that where I was is exactly where I wanted to be. Laying in the brittle and brazen grass beyond the house that built me. With all the perceived flaws and anxious moments and uncertain directions. Because the beauty in the breakdown is as beautiful as I. This truth is my truth and the only truth I ever need to know. My truth lies in the many quests on which I've embarked....of connection, of peace, and of tackling fears. Fears like I've never known, Grandpa. Fears that I never thought I'd ever ever find the strength to chase down. And still do I have so many to go. Your lessons shake the very ground that I like to pretend is solid. But really nothing is ever solid. Nothing ever fixed or promised. Except me. Because I find that I am fixed by the challenge of embracing life for all it offers. To me. All I offer to me. I am what I am as I am. "Not easy to forget," at 5. "A quick study," at 6. "A punk," at 8. And on and on do I exist. And with me....you. 

To many more lessons to come.

XOXO,

Alex

P.S. The weather here today was 51 degrees and dreary and rainy. Today was my last day of NOT eating meat. I ate a 7-layer burrito and 1.5 doughnuts. Tomorrow I will induce food sickness with copious amounts of carnivorous indulgence. It will likely include waffle fries. 

Empty Cups

[Does anybody know how to hold my heart? How to hold my heart? 

Cause I don't wanna let go, let go, let go too soon. 

I want to tell you so before the sun goes dark, how to hold my heart. 

Cause I don't wanna let go, let go of you.] S.B.

But I can and I will and I should and...why wouldn't I? Why wouldn't you? We hold each other as we outta hold ourselves. The priorities have been prioritized. The lines drawn. 

The time it took to get here and there is a time I treasure and always will. 

Because whatever will be will be and they've told me this future is not ours to see. 

I saw you as you saw me. As members of this world. Of humanity. Of a class of super special individuals that won't ever forget that plants don't crave electrolytes. 

Not even a little. 

And I'll never need a time masheen [sic, un-sic] because here you are, a part of me. Challenging me to be the best I never knew I always wanted and needed so desperately to be. 

And now I find myself at this road less traveled. Without the fear that became so familiar, yet with a purpose that once seemed so foreign and strained. You brought me back to exactly where I needed to be.

Active and full of life and hope and knowing all the love I might ever need.

To you, sir. One of the most inspiring, incredible, and real people I've ever ever EVER met.

My teacher. My lover. One of my very best friends.

This infinite abyss is ours for the taking. 

May it take you where ever you need to be taken.

I love you.

Thank you.

Always and forever, forever and always.

And Here I'll Be.

L'ho provato sulla mia pelle. 

"In the end, I've come to believe in something I call 'The Physics of the Quest.' A force in nature governed by laws as real as the laws of gravity. The rule of Quest Physics goes something like this: If you're brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting, which can be anything from your house to bitter, old resentments, and set out on a truth-seeking journey, either externally or internally, and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher and if you are prepared, most of all, to face and forgive some very difficult realities about yourself, then the truth will not be withheld from you."

-Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

I Think I Thought that I Thought.

"What do you feel....right now?" he asked me intently.
I sat there dumbfounded, so sure I was feeling everything. So sure that I felt it all. Every little teeny thing. And why....because I know how to cry?
I smirked in disbelief...I felt nothing. I felt that I was thinking. THINKing. Thinking about what it meant to feel. Thinking I knew how to feel how I felt. No, but I know how to feel about others. Intuition instructs me the best means to comfort them....these ones around me that inadvertently generate how I think I feel. This emotion that molds me into what I think I feel.
I feel that I talk. Talk much. Talk often. Talk fast. Talk about deep things that generate numbers and fascinations and sensationalism. "Thinking isn't your issue," he assured me, "you are very smart." But do I.....feel? Do I impress them with my feelings? With peace, you say? Do I feel peace or know peace or just think and talk about peace? And what of passion? That fire I seek in others as I know to be within me. HA....as I think about feeling I am reminded of the path and how I feel, with the deepest bits of my soul that this path is so necessary and righteous and will lead to where ever I need to be, surrounded by the best versions of what I hope to be. We could talk, but all I want to do is feel it. I want to look with these eyes. Feel with these hands, this skin. This very moment and until forever, even if it never comes. I take it as I take you into my life.
My life. My strife. So right.

I am my own Doctor, Shaman, and Healer.

Session II

These thoughts of mine mask feelings. Distort perceptions. Craft my reality. Ostracize and chastise and brutalize. I use them. And I am ashamed of them. All of them. To feel them, acknowledge them, give them a thought or two. For me you crafted a safe haven of expression and acceptance. Who knew what to do with such freedom? Not me. Ill equipped was I. 

So many questions have I posed. "It's really all gonna be ok, isn't it?"

The thing is, I don't need to worry and worry and worry sick about it being ok.

Cause it already is and I already am. So very ok. Great, even. 

In the right here and right now. With or without outside intervention. 

Walk like a boss. 

Talk like a boss.

With or without Ne-yo. 

It is an odd fate. A new course. This strangely startling fate. Of, course. 

It is and this is.
I may break my own heart, but I also know exactly how to heal it. Better than anyone. Ever.

I can't wait to live the rest of my days. 

With me....

.....As me. 

I'll have a Pickel AND my Motorcycle

Floods.

I am hit with floods of what has come to pass. 

Gone. Gone is he from my view. My life. Gone from these shores. 

To a destination of undetermined mystery.

To where he is and I shall one day be, too.

Gone along to a land of peanuts and big bands and loads of sand.

Never far away, you're here to stay. In my veins, my soul,

and every cheese I ever knew.

I'll be looking at the moon.....but I'll be seeing you.

Always you.

Always will I be walking your way.

From this May, until my dying day.

Command would you, nothing less.

All I can say, Grandpa, is that I'm doing my best.

Enough. Always told me I was more than enough.

Sentimental, as you were tough.

With might you challenged us all to rise to any occasion.

To you I dedicate this Old Style, Roberto.

To you I sing this next song. 

On and on, we will get along, cause you taught us all to be so strong.

To a Pickel.

To a Motorcycle.

To eloquent belligerence and many more re-tellings of all that you were.

Are to me. To us. 

Forever.

xxooo

R.I.P. R.E.P. 

1925-2012

30 Days Without Facebook

I did it to know I could. I did it to challenge dependencies. I did it because I did it. 

I did all this instead of FBing away my life:

Got reeeeeeeeeally pumped when a guest got arrested for mooning protestors. He was instantly the hero of my day.

Decided that whiskey and scotch are the only acceptable lavations until I am mended. I am told this basically makes me an 80 year old man.

Faced down some demons. Swallowed sadness. Cried deeply.

Cursed the long road.

Realized I am really fucking intense. Like seriously. I am surprisingly super ok with it.

Caught up with some long lost souls. I am truly grateful to know so many incredible people. After analyzing my close circle, I realized they all possess the following traits: intelligent, affirming, talented, not accepting of status quo, compassionate, thoughtful, deep, emotional, loyal, moral…the type of persons described as “good people.” They say you attract people similar to you. Clearly I AM thee shit.

Acknowledged book hording tendencies. Added this month: Women Who Run With the Wolves (Estes), Journey to Machu Picchu (Cumes & Valencia), Attached: The New Science of Adult Attachment and How it Can Help you Find-and Keep-Love (Levine & Heller).

Weight lifted in the garden center.

Worked at least 50 hours every week. Sure it was at two part-time jobs, but still, I feel more like an adult every day. Cause adults work too much and tell themselves it’s a brilliant idea. Muuuuuuney!

Actual radio exchange for price check (at the place where you save BIG money):

“Is it hard or soft?”

“Hard….it’s hard.”

“About how big is it?”

 “8 inches.”

They were talking about an ice pack. This is verbatim. So good.

Decided I must one day have a home that is the kind of place where people want to gather.

Gargled coconut oil. Concocted lime juice potions. Spent outrageous amounts on throat health teas. Decided to be ok with the possibility of getting tonsils removed….arrrrgh. It will probably happen. I will definitely whine.

Found myself an extra 100 bucks without paying an accountant 1 penny. Suck it, IRS!

Kissed my refund AND a decent chunk of credit card debt BUH byyyyyye.

Overindulged. Boy bands, you slay me….and One Direction, I do mean you. It’s probably because you’re British.

Delivered some smiles.

Set aside funds for an overdue aspiration. Researched artists.

Scrubbed my lips. Lip scrub is real and I never thought I’d think it was necessary.

Mandated I will only tan my legs in the future if wearing fishnets.

Mapped out birthday plans. Erotic ones.

Planned future Canadian adventures. My passport WILL get another stamp prior to expiration.

Bid a fond farewell to an icon, hero, and inspiration.

This is what prompted “did you study Speech in school?” and “you should save those note cards, that was a great speech”:

I find “Naval Commander” to be a limited term when describing Grandpa. He wasn’t a mere Naval Commander. He was a commander of attention…regaling us with stories of places far, far away and of memories long, long past. Commanding a room with wit, charm, and intelligence alone. A commander of life. The picture perfect display of the phase “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.” He lived every day. With zest. With meaning. With unfaltering humor.

A commander of our hearts. You need not venture far to find someone else with a sidesplitting story or inspirational tale, compliments of the Commander.

A purveyor of dreams. Your most loyal fan. Your favorite drinking buddy. The first person with whom you want to share your good news…your fears…your hopes. He was ready with a resolution, a solution, and in all probability, a mathematical formula.

I’ve heard beauty attracts beauty and looking around, I know it to be true. Grandpa was a pure and understated kind of beauty. And when I say he attracted beauty I mean like seriously beautiful people, please….look at me. Always the flatterer, he never failed to make you feel like the most important person in the room. Full of more class, wisdom, and kindness than most ever achieve, he sets an example of what to be.

Consequently, he also taught us how to string together some of the most effective and awe inspiring lines of nonsensical profanity you’ve ever had the fortune of encountering in your life, with classics such as “Goofy God Damn Silly Son-of-a-Bitch” and the ever effective “BULLSHIT”. In fact, anyone who has ever found themselves a passenger in a vehicle driven by Bob  knows the ONLY proper response to blowing past a DO NOT ENTER sign is  “Do not enter…? BULLshit!!!”

So, you see….he wasn’t JUST a commander, he was many a thing. Teacher. Lover. Class act. Lingustical extraordinaire and one helluva guy. Here, there, and everywhere.

My grandfather. My inspiration. Forever.

I love you, Grandpa. Thank you for being you.

Realized I will never tire of hearing how much I am just like my Mom.

Decided that May will be the month of no meat. Bring it on.

P.S. I challenge you to challenge yourself. This small brush with accomplishment and dedication is wonderful.

At 10:59, but not 11

Capable am I. Of bravery. Of courage. Of admitting flaw while acknowledging strength.
The strength to know I am heavy. So heavy in your arms. This love and these concrete feet are my own.

MY own. To have and to hold. Forever and ever.
Because life will flow on and on, with or without me AND I choose life.

I've begun a breakdown....of everything that ever scared me, challenged me, and taught me. About ME.
About what it means to know peace. To know trust in myself. 

To know that I will forever be marked by all that is you. YOU. Beautiful, you.
To know that lying by your side is such a heavenly way to lie.

---

SESSION 1

Recognition: I am invisible here. I am infuriated here. Ready to scream all manner of hurt and confusion. Here. Here. For years and years upon years. Avoiding confrontation is futile. This is my life. My maker. My undertaking. It's not my home, it's their home and I'm welcome no more. 

Takes me and breaks me as it wakes me. 

Wakes me.

wakes. me.

But not until after 11. 

Cause that's my new rule. 

The Month of _ _ _

It happened today.

Acknowledgement. 

That of loss. Of how the time is never the time you wish it to be. 

Steals the air from my lungs.

Squares me toe-to-toe with all these demons. 

This long road demands all I could hope to give. 

It is neither punishment, nor joy. Not peace or chaos. 

I am real.

This is even more real.

Will it ever be as it always has been. 

Hopeful, yet not expectant. Surprise. So much is ever a surprise. 

The lesson is in the leaving, they'd say. They are they are me. 

With me always are you. Shall you ever be. Be. BE. 

Here. 

There. 

Everywhere. 

Every day.

Every way.

Every May.

Be as it may. On to May.

...

THIS Memory.

This day I...

cut myself some slack.
felt honored by your presence.
awoke in peace.
hummed a tune.
prepared to work to the bone.
devised new cavities.
was my best friend.
set off an alarm.
provided comedic relief. 
took it one step at a time.
hoped for a refund.
walked this way.

lived.

Ships

“….I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging, and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself and if you find someone to love the YOU you love….well, that’s just fabulous.”

I am not Carrie Bradshaw. 

I will one day love myself as much as I love you.

You Mighta Been Right About that Wheelchair, Creep.

The brain is runRUNrunning away. From you. From me. To a mouse in a house. Some cowgirls like me go out like that: RUNning. And still here I am...just as I was then. A year or so ago. A year or more so. The more or the less I know not. The happy or sad I do not see. Drowning as I float on, ok.
    ok. OK. ok? Niente. Nunca. For it was not the heart that failed. Carries on and on it does, just ever so more faded and jaded. If failure needs a culprit, look no further. This world and all that I dream could be so. Blame is the name of this game and every player loses holdings for the bold things and old things.
It saves me as it betrays me.

A week away and the only comfort is not to be found. Not in the shower. Not in that cupcake. Not even in the deepest of deep heartwarming and breaking exchanges.

It will start and end as it always will be....with me. Trapped in this liberation, I have no choice save move. At a sprint.

eM

STAND. I must stand. With feet of my own and in no uncertain terms. Can’t want to want to want OR hope to hope to hope. In my heart of hearts and dream of dreams it can be nothing less than what it needs to be.

To me, an angel you will ever be. A teacher of my soul, a purveyor of the truth I so desperately sought. Taught me and brought me to the distraught me. Each moment do I discover a bit more confusing light and loss of the reality in which I once found so much comfort.

Have to be me as me and forever then shall I be. With or without me, life flows on and on and even more on. Will I catch that wave? To a destination of undetermined peace and untimely wisdom. To a place where I am in love with love and expectations be none. With the poetry that I know it to be. To be.

Free.

YES and Many, Many More Things

"Why worry?"

"Because it's one of the only things I'm good at."

"Nonsense, why do you say that?"

Haters might hate but I hate more. Hate that I hate that I hate...that I don't even hate. Perhaps I only despise that which I think I can no longer control....have never controlled.....shan't control. A free bird...free as a bird I dream to be. The free spirit you've always seen me to be. Wished I could see. 

Like that song about talking about me. Just me....sub in worries and more thoughts and fears, still. Round and round and soon to crack an axle.  Breaking the pedestal I've constructed. In you I find I must reject it. All of it, in fact. Different definitely isn't equal but neither is deprecation of self (eM). Thank you for all that YOU are. 

Each eleven of the twelve I shall tackle like never ever before. Flag football hardly polished the rudders and so here I find myself: exploring new territories, setting abstract goals, excited at the prospect of change. The change I never had to consciously contemplate before now. For it is this lack which has corrupted the potential and the present. Right now...with you...it is as sure as the sun. But me, in the orange chair, without a clue....as comforting as it is crippling. Tally heave and ho. 

I feel the hum in ears and head, even if only for a minute or five. Starting so very small with room for sitar lessons. No, actually the harmonica. "And life flows on within you and without you....."

With or without what I need I shall proceed. Into the farce. 

Bright Copper Kettles and Warm Woolen Mittens.

She is irritated. She is she is she is she is me. I am her. She is me. I sound just like her, they tell me. But I am NOT her. I am me. I carry her and her name around with me. Everyday. Every way. Hope to be as good, as smart, and maybe even happier. Justice for she. She died. She lived. Here she is. Now and then. Different but the same. Alive but dead. The light in her eyes, which once burned so vibrantly, is now reserved for fleeting moments on limited days. With her I am lost while found.....whole but fragmented...resolved but left wanting.

I am selfish, I think. Indeed, I am regularly reminded of such assertions through other assertions from people I have trusted since inception. Selfish with my thoughts, wishes, and dreams. The dreams she dreamed for me stretched as far as the eye can see. Now I dream of dreams, make peace with dreams, imagine new dreams. I am damaged. Devoid of instinct...of the confidence to say I know what I know what I know.

"Thank you," she says.
"For what?" I respond.
"For letting me breath," she tells me.

I move towards the bed where she lies and prop myself against the familiar headboard. Unaware of her own power she grasps my hand and and holds it between hers. As tears begin to stream down my cheek, I am as thankful as I am angry. Grateful for this moment of connection, of flashback, of awakening. Missing her even as she holds me. Upset that I am crippled by the past, unwilling to accept this future. Learning to accept what I thought I'd accepted. Parting with what I thought was departed.
He pities me. Slams doors at the very thought of what I think. Yells and pleads with confusion. With anger. Succeeds at deploring my processes, demanding me to question my methods...my very ways of being me and seeing me.
I am scared and fearful of not having the know how or courage to change. Changing the way I experience change. The most profound and affecting change of my life. She is me. I am she. We are we and forever shall we be. Together.