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in some ways, i've just got it together. and i have for awhile. ('so that's what i believe in. in short, it's not god.') and in others, i'm still not sure. shape-shifting, ever-morphing puddle of a girl.
so... maybe i'll bare my soul. maybe not.
i'd lost myself somewhere, not too long ago. and i'm not sure i've found me yet. mostly, i'm here -- i know that much. at the same time though, i can remember who i was and what i was, and i know that this right here, this isn't it. i remember a night that passed with the quickness and the power lightning. the forest fire of my life. i remember pounding doors. and picking up -- because i always pick up. i remember a bang, and the most horrible scream. (and on weekends i wake up panicked to kids laughing and yelling under my window because it brings me back so quickly.) i remember dialing nine.one.one. i remember dropping a glass and watching it shatter. slow motion. helpless. and i remember will, always there, always so perfect. i cleaned the kitchen. my refuge, my method of fixing things. i remember everything falling apart, and the one night where he said that i wasn't the only one hurting. and fuck, was i sick of having to defend my lack of anger, of everyone waiting for me to breakdown.
how do i function. like a leave falling from a tree. like autumn and spring. and i want to laugh and cry. i want to roll around in a pile of leaves. i want tomorrow to be saturday and i want blueberry pancakes for breakfast. i want to go shopping with my friends and i want allergens to stay very far away. i want to smile more and to swear less. i want to be a little more in control, just a little. i want to make s'more s'mores and new friends. i want to make a painting with a cello and i want to paint my toenails. i want to enjoy the summer rather than perpetually waiting for the end, the impending doom and adventure that will be this fall. i want to sign yearbooks and enjoy my messy field hockey hair. i want everyone to love my adorable hair instead of telling me that it neeeds to be longer. i want love. i want the necklace from liquid sunshine with the three coins on it that i have fantasized about for a year or two now. i want other people to be okay. and i want to write a book.
i have small hands that make pretty pictures. they've always worked well enough for me. even with a little dirt under the nails. even with the dirt
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