The top image is (c) me, taken in Grand Teton, Wyoming.
Being in love was like a heightened state of being. The highs were higher, the lows crashed down beneath the floor.
Sometimes, I think I miss it. Everything feels like a flattened state of consciousness right now.
Sometimes, I’m glad. I can do without all those sleepless nights. (I lose enough sleep as it is.) I can do without all that crying.
It’s been a while since I sat down and wrote. It’s been a while since I let myself sit here, middle of the night, moody music playing, and think about how I’m doing. And yes, there are my responsibilities, but it’s almost 2 AM and everything and everyone else is far away, and this is where I need to be right now.
I keep repeating that to myself. This is where I need to be right now. It feels like I’m actually going crazy. It feels like I’m wound too tight, trying to sort through all the pressures of my life, and I didn’t realize it, but that’s what I loved about being in love - it slowed the world down. It made me find little eternities in the most fleeting of hours. Yes, things were crazy and spinning much too fast, but then I’d have someone at the end of the day who held me and laughed at me and made my worries seem very, very far away.
And that’s what I’m missing right now, I think. I feel like I’m going crazy, and it’s winding up inside of me, and I’m getting so full I could burst, only I have to keep it together keep it together keep it together for the next 6 hours, next 6 days, next 6 weeks, on and on and on and maybe I actually am crazy now and maybe what I really need is to sleep and sleep and sleep, but they’re at the door, demanding answers, and I don’t have any right now.
You know what’s crazy? All I want right now is to wake up in the middle of the night and hear someone breathing beside me. All I want is to know that when it’s dark, there’s someone beside me.
But mostly it’s just me, and my own breathing, and the alarm that always rings too soon, and it’s time for me to wake up and do it all over again.