Newest Archives Profile Whispers Rings Host
And I mean flushed in the non-bathroom sort of way Weighing my pockets with stones of longing |
There's a strong wind blowing today, and the sun is bright, showing off all the vertical tunnels of spinning leaves while I walk. My skirt is whipping around my legs like it did that windy february day out of time, standing in the brush of the sahel, watching car after car sink in the soft sahara sand. Tuesday night as my steps rang on the cold pavement, I looked up at the clear sky and found myself whispering a smiths song to the stars. Wishing on stars may seem like a silly practice, but it's my consistent way of holding onto hope and the spirit of childhood faith. So I stopped for a minute to feel the icy air in my mouth and listen to my heart stutter "please, please, please let me get what I want." My shivers translated easily into shudders of sobs that shamed me. But all seems so much better now, having stuck to knowing what's healthy for me, having written out my thoughts and given them away, and having them retained in the hand I gave them to. Things are open-ended to a degree, so I have space to breathe and reconsider and step back and smile casually, truly, without worrying about what I should or should not do. It's nice to know that I can choose not to sleep with someone and still be taken seriously.
A Strong Resolution at 3:01 p.m.
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