January 2011
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I hate waking up from a nightmare alone. I hate still being afraid in the fog of only-just-wakefulness. You can hush your troubles in the daylight, but they’ll come for you in the middle of the night.
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I spent last night in the District. Malibu & pineapple juice (forever) under a magical tree growing out of the table. New friends sang the heartiest of happy birthdays. I even gave a speech: “I had a dream… and now here you are.”
Morning brought bad news: my visa fell through. Thud. Oh. (a lengthy silence). I am getting used to this and also I will never get used to this....
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Someone followed me in the woods! There are no paths so it had been peculiar when, earlier, I’d found an abandoned campsite - all fallen tents and snow-filled suitcases. There weren’t any human tracks then. When I returned, enormous shoe-prints disfigured & dwarfed my own; he’d followed me for almost a mile. Something about the way the branches broke in the near distance made...
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I’m going into the snow, into the heart of the woods. And I’m not coming out til I feel better or freeze to death.
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“They say that every snowflake is different. If that were true, how could the...”
– Jeanette Winterson
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Do I Worry — The Ink Spots
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The winds are changing
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I’d become so unfamiliar with happiness that when it hit, it felt like magic!
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“How little it takes to turn a person’s life around for better or worse. An...”
– Meg Rosoff
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Listen to me: one day your heart will hurt so little that you’ll barely even notice it anymore. And then flowers will grow over the thorns and you will be happy again. You have to believe in that.
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I went walking in the woods, collecting long twisted vines. Along the path, I met a raccoon. Strange and lovely to see her in her natural home and not rummaging through the filthy human world. She just turned her little, furry head this way and that, and we wandered shyly away.
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I don’t think it would be so terrible to die in these woods, to walk out one snowy night and fall asleep in the only Winter I’ve come to love. I like to think one of those sweet does would come along in the light of dawn and carry my soul away.
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I’m feeling just this bottomless, hollow pain without an end in sight. I can’t do anything with it but put my hands over my face and cry.
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I’ve given myself a headache, crying again. And while I can’t make sense of it, I have this feeling that if the whole thing weren’t so serious and heavy and heartbreaking I’d just be laughing at myself.
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Lastnight I dreamt an enormous asteroid was to hit Earth. We all gathered in our homes, hushed and scaring ourselves with apocalyptic curiosity. And when, after all, it wasn’t so bad, we were secretly disappointed that we’d missed a thrilling show.
“A good friend is the most valuable thing on this earth.”
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one of the frightening things is that even now that I’ve hit a new heartbreaking low, I know I can and may very soon feel even more pain than this. My heart hurts so much. I honestly fear I may never recover from it.
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There is a time to fight and a time to let go. I’m just incredibly bad at choosing the right one.
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I spent the night out, laughing wildly until four in the morning, and woke up feeling hopeless under an overcast sky. My thoughts are so muddled and muddy. I’m feeling everything at once - a great tertiary blur. The emotional spins. It’s a little sickening.
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“This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books,...”
– Walt Whitman
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“If the sight of the blue skies fills you with joy, if a blade of grass springing...”
– Eleonora Duse
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Underneath these dry, cracked plates of earth, things are moving and changing. I am quietly reforming myself underground, little by little, stitch by stitch. Don’t hold your breath, it’s slow and tedious work, but keep a watchful eye. The truth is I’m not a flood, crashing and flowing; I’m tectonic.
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This morning a red fox was running and bouncing, bright against the snow! Forget the witching hour; nights are hard work. The morning is all magic in the woods.
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the pleasure of crawling sleepily into a warm bed on a snowy night and finding that, for now, my little heart doesn’t feel so sore
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“I want to beg you, as much as I can, to be patient toward all that is unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will...
