Ambling…
Shuffling…
More of a zombie thing, than coherency.
Embarrassed she had stressed at the overtaxed pharmacist – who also was vexed that he voiced his whirling thoughts out loud.
He had innovated well on their behalf.
She knew she should not be in public like this – caught in a sinkhole from exploded adrenals.
People patterns pervaded and criss-crosssd verbatim.
Vitamins and nourishment.
Flowers and the sky.
Reference to the movie, Man Up.
She kept waiting for the pressure to ease, but it didn’t.
Climbing at higher elevations, it was easier to lie down flat and let the heavens pass across her than it was to stand up and keep going.
This must mean that she was ascending – but it felt like she was dying.
All of the rules and regulations: she couldn’t navigate their impressions.
She wanted to be in love by having found her soulmate.
She wanted to have more children and experience their thriving.
She wanted to live and breathe and stretch into the open air – without having to continuously care that she never had and continued to not fit others’ preset expectations.
She belonged with a tribe that believed as she did.
But, maybe she was among the first of them.
Maybe it was better to rest and wait for them.
If she let them catch up, then tomorrow she might see and could greet them.
There are important events, but then, nourishing sanctum is best.
Caught in Time’s Jag, he hit the next portal and, though delayed, was on track to find her.
She asked if she could someday, expecting to be told never again – but, instead was told in four years. Time to heal and recuperate for the event.
Pulled downward into the abyss, she was held in safety as the virus passed over.
And with that request, she succumbed to Oblivion.
Her body begged for it.
But, her instincts fled from it.
What I like about the best of them is that the heroine may have become broken, but she is cherished and regains abilities.
The prized unit was perched on the edge of the curving lane which passed the pool upon entering the small group of condominiums and crossed an upper loop of the golf course which traced a large pond with ducks, cooties, reeds, and black swans – depending on the season.
As she grew to maturity, she wondered what it would be like to have it bequethed to her after their passing, for she loved this home dearly and was the first born of their grandchildren.
But this was not to be. It was given to her uncle who sold it for the brief gain of money.
I haven’t been ok.
Therefore, I am ok.
Just not always instantaneous.
1. The angular distance of a place north or south of the earth’s equator, or of a celestial object north or south of the celestial equator, usually expressed in degrees and minutes.”at a latitude of 51° N”Similar:parallelgrid lineOpposite:longitudemeridian
2. Scope for freedom of action or thought.”journalists have considerable latitude in criticizing public figures”Similar:freedomscopeleewayelbow roombreathing spacespace
(Google search)
Planning to garden seems neither here nor there.
(Meanings – haha!)
She had to leave because she kept seeking continuity where things remained broken.
(I love multiple meanings)
This is me.
This is me.
This is not me.
This is me.
Sometimes I see them and can’t help but track them.
Afterall, listening saved me – and not, betrayed.
He had to corrupt everything that she was doing to cause her reaction so that he could have reason to leave her.
There is no cure. There are no reparations.
There is only walking forward and figuring out how to unlock doors to greet the present’s future.
In these vast echo chambers of a catacombed mind, to hear myself lost and alone in the darkness was frightening.
But even worse was when I became awsre of it – and then they became aware of me and came scurry-crawling in their eagerness to feed.
Dark abominations of imagination came greeting to where I’d been cast after the garden was closed to me by my own hand’s sealing.
A child’s attempt to divert trauma walled off normal relating.
So I can hear myself think.
I heard something…
But that doesn’t mean it was anything.
Or is it my own perceptions that are glitching as pain throttles complacency?
An outstretched claw contracted in tension as she remembered how the wizard had vexed and tormented her.
Becoming aware in pain and fitful napping, she extended it – willing it to acknowledge this was a new beginning.
Relationships are give and take and require at minimum two identities.
I morph too easily and try to accomodate, blending into the scenery.
Until I form my opinions, and then – surprise! – I’m unique.
Spirit embodied.
To my astonishment, tears fall so easily sometimes.
Maybe I ought to encourage them.
Maybe they will wash my soul clean.
Why do we say that someone we really like is akin to this?
Do bees even have knees?
Or is it that we think that someone is so great that because of them, bees would have knees -?
Yeah, but my neck is spasm-pinching.
Back to “the grind” of daily survival for me!
Fragile adrenals got exploded from trying some sips of a touted energy fizz drink with green tea and neural stimulation components.
Days later, I trace back to the scene of my downfall where bamboozled system synapses now arrive, crashed and tumbling.
A quip from my last brain-cell humor last night that I shared with my supportive youngling.
“Don’t assume that you know me!”
She turned to him in whirlwind expression, panic seizing her breath and making her seem like a wild woman.
The distress from fear that he would snap-judge her and leave was all-encompassing.
My now father was looking up college options for me after our discussing how I could return to working for him.
(I won’t – for I am free now, and there is a “whole world” to explore!)
He does care aboit my happiness and knows how I value continuous learning.
I was surprised that he found a less expensive art degree program for me. I guess that he has learned what I enjoy and was trying to show me.
With the vexation from not being able to finish my enviro science degree and past dreams already expressed in missing my music peer connecting, Art, I suppose, was the other aspect not fully acknowledged in me.
The problem is that most of these degrees do not contain content that appeals or applies directly to my curiosity.
After a long-haul-month of networking to get my business noticed, my dreams reveal what my adrenals are saying.
I need decompression by artistic expression and a sense of connection with my family.
One perfect icicle star suspended between fine glass plates in a locket created a photo session in a packed classroom of college-aged students as I tried to capture it in light before it melted.
The professor agrieved “What has happened to my life? There is nothing to live for.” – which stirred compassion inside, wondering how I could help him.
As he approached to conviscate my camera, I scrolled hastily, worried how the photos had captured so many faces in the background.
As I began erasing some taken of the professor, there was one that drew me in and led me back into the past.
He was running down a parkside stairwell, calling out with distressed joy as his arms opened wide to embrace his dark-haired granddaughter who ran to him.
“Kifka! Kifka!” Eyes streaming tears as he hugged her tightly to him, overcome by emotion.
Soon after, a man joined me in viewing the dream of the professor giving him a sachel of toy cars as a child – and I realized that the little girl had had a blond-haired brother.
What was it like in the days before Covid disrupted our social “norms?”
(A sing-song sentence)
I did not realize that the reason I am stumbling around at bed time is because I am deeply tired.
I just thought it waa from the physical therapy and rehabilitation efforts I’ve been undertaking.
But, after years of push-push-pushing, one no longer recognizes where pushing crossed a line.
Reasoning of which is only so because we make it and say it is so.
Candid Corvid Productions 