unacceptable

It’s unacceptable. I know. Silly, for sure. I have to purge before midnight, or sleepless I’ll be. So, here’s my unbelievable moment of honesty, with which I show the fool hidden deep.

I miss a video, well not exactly…how can I explain???

Funny how a song can not only bring back things unsettling, but also give a new beginning with a joyful memory.

His video, his voice, his smile, each creative choice did that for me.

No one knows that when I was about ten, I performed a dance routine during a basketball game half time show to “Dancing in the Streets.”

In dance and gymnastics from four to fourteen (when I had a car accident spinal cord injury), nostalgia when I hear certain songs can be unexpected. Well, every part of him singing was touching, and welling emotions made my skin prickly hot when he smiled, especially as he belted a beautiful “Chicago”.

A yearn began to dance about, urging my lungs to expell a belly laugh, honestly, like nothing I’ve ever felt, for tears too dripped onto my phone.

My brain wouldn’t let it go, so I had to figure out if I could find it again. Then, I searched…results:

Gone.

That was last night. All day, knowing it doesn’t matter that it matters to me, knowing it’s something I’ll never again see, breaks my heart repeatedly.

Lost, my confidence whipped raw, I think I’ll take a break from social media. I didn’t used to be so emotional!

I think it’s true…you stay the same age as your greatest traumatic event. For me that makes sense, I still act like a horny teenager, head up my ass.

My excuse is so simple: I want to feel good.

In my life, I’m only misunderstood.

(I put back up a bunch of old stuff, why not, right? If only I didn’t try to hide parts of my writing…)

a will, a way

I WILL myself…some day…to travel like I used to, relying on no one but myself! Ok, well, at least to places like Chicago, a place I know so well.

(Three months of rehabilitation just off Lake Shore Drive at fourteen years old, The Museum of Science and Industry’s been a staple since a kid, and every five months I have an appointment that’s right by School of the Art Institute of Chicago (where my daughter goes)…but…DAMN IT! I’ve traveled to Chicago alone my whole adult life!

How many times did I drive all by myself from the Arizona desert to the Midwest cornfields, from a Colorado Valley to an Arizona Mountain, from a San Diego beach to family in Texas?

How far did I go? My van might know.

I need freedom from silent expectations, bites of resentment, and voiceless screams. I want to escape being ignored as an acceptable way of living.

Hours pass by so slow as I wait for…my chance. The next time a friend says let’s talk, I won’t get scared and avoid the call!

A dragonfly’s wings fan subtle heat on my shoulder, and as if through a microphone-hand my tiny friend yells:

“ANSWER! You silly wench! No more bricks in the wall! You’re no longer a teenager! You’re an ADULT.”

Some day I’ll get away…for now, I guess, I’ll just keep dreaming, and vicariously I’ll trigger myself happy watching from my home.

In a Battle

In a battle with my SELF. There’s no blue, no gray: BLACK and white only. Both just as necessary,  both needing control;

Trying to figure shit out, both pissing me off! Darkness absorbing light, white fights a push back. Both churning growth.

In a battle with my SELF. I will fight to be red, different than in my head, understanding my misunderstood.

a wonder to the light

Basking in the summer sun, humidity sucks upon my skin’s glisten so that hot and bothered, I try to talk to my lovely wonder out loud:

I ask the light, “Are you always this bright? Or do you actually know my soul, and that’s why your glow makes me so giddy I’m dizzy?”

(Talking to myself, I can’t fathom a true reply, so I go on, knowing that here, when I write, from my own truth I don’t hide🙂

“Your shine twinkles glitter and gold specks, mesmerizing my heart to melt into a fuchsia fusion of delightful energy, and into a slippery fall, I willingly tumble, embracing the dream with no expectation at all.”

(Oh, my dear, fear builds them brooding Indiana cornfield cumulonimbus clouds that tremble a thunder of doubt in the backdoor of my mind…

You’re still just a romantic fool by yourself, creating a beautiful reflection of a connection that you must have felt in another lifetime.

For the glow, I’m eternally grateful;)

Painter’s Song

blue used to feel black

Blue used to feel black, like a head whack! But, with a smack! back, because of you, blue feels bright almost a teal tropical skyline at dawn, shady clouds hanging out, shaking off the grey dew warmed to twinkle in the sun anew. When my melancholy mind is on the attack and all feels forever daunting and totally MAD,  watching you transforms the blue and tickles my soul to make even my eyes smile, reminding me, things aren’t so bad, just find a way to laugh;)