Every once in a while I have these moments of calm. I am submerged in this deep blue tranquility I feel I can only achieve in sleep. For the last 6 years or so it hasn't come in slumber. It hasn't come often. It comes like the calm after a storm. This utter loss of control. This weight that cannot be lifted. It is most often a calm of resignation to my circumstances. But tonight, it is different.

I feel a smile playing at my lips. Even, here on this porch, where I have spent so many nights with dry salt streams on my cheeks, it feels like...well I can't say that I've ever felt this before. I can't describe it. There are simply no words, which scares me. The usual worries about the validity of this calm are still pushing their way through the Prozac. Screaming their high pitched warnings:
"Don't trust it."
"Don't hope"
"Don't be fooled"

But these days, these voices, these demons (if we're going to be Catholic about it) are held at bay. Because, the calm I feel today started to creep in when I let my gaze wander to those deep blue tranquil eyes. When, after putting up a fight, I stared my dreams square in the face and kissed them in the cold, on this porch, in this chair, where I've cried so many tears for so many who weren't worth them. In these blue eyes I feel safe, I feel calm, I feel a future again. These eyes are not glassy, glossed over like so many influenced by substance or that lacked it. These are not the eyes I've spent year writing about. These are not the eyes I thought I deserved to stare into, but with the new year, came this opportunity, this encapsulation of the dark corners of my heart. The secrets I started to keep even from myself, because they were too precious for even me to ruin.

This might not make sense. Or be the best thing I've written. My fingers are frozen. My lips are chapped. I cannot wrap my mind around all the things that make so much sense, and the things that are only making sense now that they've destroyed me.

I cannot wrap my mind around him. But I've accepted the fact that I must stop trying. I must stop trying and simply give in...

but we all knew I'd do that the first time he held my hand, didn't we?

Dream, Dream, Dream

I used to have this daydream of my life where I'd be sitting in my own living room, drinking tea, writing while my dog was curled up next to me on the couch, listening to the rain outside my window.


It's happening. 


Granted, I hoped I'd be getting paid for the writing, but you can't have it all. Today I realized that perhaps, without me noticing, my dreams are all slowing becoming realities. I think I didn't notice that I am happier, that I am calm, that I am coming to peace with so many things I keep categorizing as tragedies. 
Because finally, all the things I am lacking are made up for by all the conversations I've had on various porches around this city.


It's all happening.