today is day ten. . . i didn't think i'd make it this far, and be this happy. and maybe i'm kidding myself, but if that is the tragic fortuity. i think i'm okay with that too. i spoke with a dear friend last night whom always seems to rip the rose colored glasses from my face with a grace and wit that is all her own, and we decided that engaging in the ordinary, common, natural, orthodox, typical, routine, COMPOS MENTIS. . . is just simply frightening. it's an alcoholic attempting temperance. so i sit. drumming my fingers, my legs shaking, the beads of sweat forming on my forehead threatening to tell all of my secrets. so scared that he will notice. . . frightened even more that he won't. maybe he doesn't understand that i need a glass of melodramatic agony followed by a couple of shots of wicked hurt. . . and i'll sit at this table with you as long as you want darlin'. i think more than that. . . in his own unknown way, he understood that i needed a hand up. i hope someday he will fully know the impression left on my soul from the happenstance of our collision.
i'm so glad i have friends that help me remember. what's that well-worn saying about friends? they are angels that help you to remember to fly when you have forgotten?? something of that sort. thankfully, my friends help me remember nose touches, swimming (swimming, swimming, swimming, swimming), and being scared is good because it means that you are still alive. who would have ever thought that we would never be younger than we are today. . .
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