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Red Lipstick & Green Ink [userpic]

Up late, feeling a mix of melancholy...

January 14th, 2008 (02:32 am)

It'll be strange to be on my own again.
That Tree House I have been longing for is very nearly within my grasp.

I will miss the company of my Roomie.
You know he saved me, he was the one who dragged me whimpering but contesting
to the white-coats after the accident...finally.

Saved my life, really.
Lay his own credit card down for the first CT scan, when they told me my brain
was bleeding inside and swelling against my skull.

Has put me up at his place, ever since, when I was not at my folks.

But we are both solitary creatures, enjoying our own space far too much.
And even if we both wanted to make a go of sharing rent and putting up with each other
it is a 20 mile drive on MoPac to work, and from.

I miss my South Austin.
I miss my neighborhoods.
I am loath of the sprawl that is North Austin and the ilk that inhabit it for the most part.

*sigh*

But I've grown rather happily used to cooking for two, and sharing the events of the day.
Daniel Tiger is one of the finest humans I know, a Good Bear of the very
highest order.

And quite frankly, as much as he has sheltered and cared for me...
I have enjoyed very much having someone to look after as well.

After the horror that was the house that I lived in for far too long
without affection or reason of any kind at all, I finally had someone
that I could look after. He with his profoundly bachelor ways...
he happy to have a home cooked meal, a mended pair of favourite pajamas,
a tidy home with his laundry done--and company.
Someone to trade comic books and discuss the finer points of Dr Who with?

Creeping up on the decade anniversary of the loss of my Steven, my 931...
best roomie ever?
I cannot help but wonder if I will ever find the balance I so seem to require,
devoid of the dangers of romance--but full of love.

Ten long years have softened my memory and my heart to his suicide...
and sainted him a thousand times over--deserved or no.

I'm nearly forty years old, I've lost any desire for a husband, a lover of that sort?
But a companion...
that I've found myself longing for more and more.

But no one wants the job. It would take a perfectly matched damaged creature
like myself--to desire such a thing. To understand.

There is a solution, I know that there must be.
It has been a lifetime since I have felt the self confidence, peace
and return of this inner joy that I have discovered inside myself
through the events leading me to this
moment.

I am new.
I have an opportunity that few are ever able to recognise.
A second chance.

So close to having lost my life, everything stripped away--and remade.
I've been fumbling with the blocks, trying to put them back the way they were...
finally, realising at last, it isn't about going back to what I was--what I knew?

I have something better.

Wrestled with feelings of abstract failure, because I couldn't write about all of this...

Where were my words? I have always written everything
absolutely EV-ER-Y-THING down
since I was a small child.
Recording, for whatever reason...because it was compulsory to expel.

Instead, I found myself thinking... holding things close. Listening instead of speaking.
Lucid dreaming, strange epiphanies that defied any text I attempted.

I needed to absorb in silence.
Take time to heal not only from the internal physical injuries to my grey matter,
but the much deeper ones that had been growing inside me for far longer.

...feeling a mix of melancholy...
and something else entirely.

Something I cannot find words for
that excites me in ways whole and huge.