Monday, July 20, 2020

I'll Save These Letters For Myself

Emotionally assaulted. 

Turned inside out.

Snapped in half like a 7 iron before it's flung into the water hazard. 

I haven't felt this whipped, this filleted, this beat up through no fault of my own since high school when nearly all of my friends conspired against me and I collapsed alone in a whirlpool vortex of 
she said 
    she said 
        she said 
            she said.


Drowning.
Bloated.
Sunk.

No matter where I gaze online these last couple of days there is a seemingly unlimited supply of gobbledygook, of bilge, of amphigory working to eradicate my happy countenance and it's a struggle to stay afloat.

I breathe. I ohm. I try to visualize myself as a daisy but I end up a yellow bellied perennial who throws her head back just in time to see a metallic tonnage of train cars derailing and taking flight; subsequently squashing her and all those surrounding...trackside sown and grown daisies, just swaying here minding our own business and facing the sun with our little daisy arms held aloft.

Tonight, I listen to the Foo Fighters song "See You" incessantly, on repeat. I want this ditty rife with sadness in a candy coated shell to help me dance in the kitchen with a glass of wine alternately held aloft and then snuggled at my side like a six gun but right now it just makes me miss everyone I haven't seen in the last 5 months, or 15 or 30 years...really, it's all feeling about the same at this moment. 

I fall inside the song where I crawl about, searching. My worming leads me over top of slivers and nails, right about at "you oooh oooh." Dave's voice closes my eyes and I melt into maudlin. 




But, as the garishly painted and rainbowed rock I found while walking the dog reminded me today, this too shall pass.

On more than a few occasions this week I've thought I'm still here
Disaster and recovery, calamity and recuperation, strife and calm, cataclysm and rebirth. 

Worldly hurt and anger and insolence, survival without permanent fracture, and overwhelming pain isn't easy. Neither is righting and soothing and caring for a patch of accidentally mown daisies....but I'll do it over and over. 

I'm going to hear this song in my head all night. 

#mushroomtumbler