I never got a chance to say high to November properly. It slipped past me. The days blur into jumbled images. Can barely remember yesterday. I've been with him for a few days it seems, rather than a month in simple bliss, I am in love? The days are the same, and they are normal days. I was so afraid of routine, stability. He calms me, and makes me want to be faithful.
I've been prone to sleep in quite a bit lately. I get up at the sound of my alarm clock, force my self in the bathroom, the bright lights glaring down, and a temporary blindness ensues, attempt to wash my face, brush my teeth, and I'm off to school, yet another day. I'm sleeping these days away now, going through the steps of living. Laying under my warm covers melting in to feathers and no concerns. At ease finally, more than I had been since the school year started. I've finished my college applications. They're sent off, waiting for that reply sometime in January. January I'd have to decide my fate. It's been an incredible weight lifted off me. The magazine is done. I held the proofs in my hand last week, and I cradled it in my arms as a new born infant love child, as my good friend said from the magazine. It's too bad he's in rehab, I missed his wit and insightful prose poetry. I felt the pages at my fingertips. Joy. I love my job, I'm loving life. I feel like my fiery, adventerous nature has been tamed for the moment. I am fine with staying in this place for a while before I'd have the urge to move on.
1 comment:
The wonderful part about it all, and I am speaking in part as someone who is just as perplexed by love, is that the urge to move on does not entitle a seperation, rather taking someone by the hand.
I dream of such a union, at least. Or so you my starry eyed friend will probably agree.
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