This frustrates me. It is one of those nights which, if blessed with time and opportunity, I feel I could create something magical: the perfect string of words, banding together to express an idea. If only.
But alas, I've been blessed with a much-needed job to which I will be called at 8:30 tomorrow morning, and therefore have no time for writing miraculous epiphanies tonight. It is unfortunate, but cannot be helped.
And so goodnight. I will say only that the dawn will bring one final day of heady preparation before at last I will stand and say goodbye.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Tonight
Tonight all I can write is sentimental nonsense. None of it really matters, but writing it seems to help me.
I've been trying to remember; how dreadfully sick and torn apart I felt not so very long ago. But I can't. All I feel is...nothing. I'm not sure why. Tonight I should be singing with joy. I'm done. I'm free. I'm absolutely ready. But I don't feel anything. The memory of anger still lingers, but I don't want to feel that, not ever again. Then also, I can remember feeling joy, pure and sweet. It was beautiful.
Right now I just feel sort of hollow, and contrary to how it might seem, I'm enjoying it.
I'm going back there soon, that joyful place. I'm building something. I think it's a life of my own, but I'm not quite sure yet. I'm tired. I don't know if I can do this. But instead of doing what I would have a few months ago and staying up until three o'clock to cry about it, I believe I'll just go to bed and try to dream of pleasant things.
I've been trying to remember; how dreadfully sick and torn apart I felt not so very long ago. But I can't. All I feel is...nothing. I'm not sure why. Tonight I should be singing with joy. I'm done. I'm free. I'm absolutely ready. But I don't feel anything. The memory of anger still lingers, but I don't want to feel that, not ever again. Then also, I can remember feeling joy, pure and sweet. It was beautiful.
Right now I just feel sort of hollow, and contrary to how it might seem, I'm enjoying it.
I'm going back there soon, that joyful place. I'm building something. I think it's a life of my own, but I'm not quite sure yet. I'm tired. I don't know if I can do this. But instead of doing what I would have a few months ago and staying up until three o'clock to cry about it, I believe I'll just go to bed and try to dream of pleasant things.
Monday, June 2, 2014
One. More. Day.
She pulled her hand away.
Ouch.
There in that moment I felt that the voluminous sixty seconds that followed were the longest and most horrible seconds of my entire life.
"Eww," She said. "That's gross!"
I melted into a pool of shame, staring at the ground. It was the equivalent of an ostrich reaction, and did nothing to stop the beams of eyesight that all swung into my soul. They were all staring at me now. I knew it even though I couldn't see them watching me.
"Robby?" Miss Kensing asked me quietly, as their stares drew her attention. "What's wrong?"
"His hands are gross!" Ambria shouted, her tongue clacking wildly.
I scrunched up my face, waiting for an unstoppable river. Tears slipped out.
"Boys and girls, go back to your game." Miss Kensing said to the others. "Come over here Robby." She directed me gently.
"I'm sorry." I said bitterly, wishing violent thoughts upon Ambria Cashton's head.
"What are you sorry for?" She asked me.
"For being...gross."
"Robby, you're not gross. You're just human. Everybody has gross things about them." Miss Kensing smiled, her lovely, crooked smile.
"You don't Miss Kensing." I said impulsively, forgetting my tears in adoration of my teacher. She was perfect. I blushed shyly.
"Oh yes I do. Although it's very sweet of you to say that. I have a lot of gross things about me. You might be surprised."
"You're not gross at all though! You're beautiful."
"The gross things I have aren't on the outside, Robby. They're in my soul."
"What's a soul?"
"It's your inner being. It's what makes you, you."
"Is it in my stomach?"
"No." She smiled again, laughing a little.
"What makes yours gross?"
"All the bad things I've done and thought."
"I think bad things too sometimes." I said, nodding sympathetically. "Like, I wish Ambria would get warts or sit down in the mud. Those types of bad things?"
She looked down at me again, with her gentle lips curving, but her eyes were sad.
"Some much worse than that, I'm afraid." She patted my hand. "But do you know what?"
"What?" I asked.
"I used to let the bad things convince me that I could never be good, which isn't true at all. Gross people can be cleaned off, like mud off shoes." She motioned to the brown smears on my laces. "So don't worry okay? You're no more gross than anyone else, just because of a little sweat and dirt."
"Okay." I said.
Ouch.
There in that moment I felt that the voluminous sixty seconds that followed were the longest and most horrible seconds of my entire life.
"Eww," She said. "That's gross!"
I melted into a pool of shame, staring at the ground. It was the equivalent of an ostrich reaction, and did nothing to stop the beams of eyesight that all swung into my soul. They were all staring at me now. I knew it even though I couldn't see them watching me.
"Robby?" Miss Kensing asked me quietly, as their stares drew her attention. "What's wrong?"
"His hands are gross!" Ambria shouted, her tongue clacking wildly.
I scrunched up my face, waiting for an unstoppable river. Tears slipped out.
"Boys and girls, go back to your game." Miss Kensing said to the others. "Come over here Robby." She directed me gently.
"I'm sorry." I said bitterly, wishing violent thoughts upon Ambria Cashton's head.
"What are you sorry for?" She asked me.
"For being...gross."
"Robby, you're not gross. You're just human. Everybody has gross things about them." Miss Kensing smiled, her lovely, crooked smile.
"You don't Miss Kensing." I said impulsively, forgetting my tears in adoration of my teacher. She was perfect. I blushed shyly.
"Oh yes I do. Although it's very sweet of you to say that. I have a lot of gross things about me. You might be surprised."
"You're not gross at all though! You're beautiful."
"The gross things I have aren't on the outside, Robby. They're in my soul."
"What's a soul?"
"It's your inner being. It's what makes you, you."
"Is it in my stomach?"
"No." She smiled again, laughing a little.
"What makes yours gross?"
"All the bad things I've done and thought."
"I think bad things too sometimes." I said, nodding sympathetically. "Like, I wish Ambria would get warts or sit down in the mud. Those types of bad things?"
She looked down at me again, with her gentle lips curving, but her eyes were sad.
"Some much worse than that, I'm afraid." She patted my hand. "But do you know what?"
"What?" I asked.
"I used to let the bad things convince me that I could never be good, which isn't true at all. Gross people can be cleaned off, like mud off shoes." She motioned to the brown smears on my laces. "So don't worry okay? You're no more gross than anyone else, just because of a little sweat and dirt."
"Okay." I said.
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