Wanting

i search the archives
almost wishfully,
what am i looking for?

what a silly being
i am,
i think to myself-
half laughingly and half scared.
do i think i can really mess it up so badly
that the will of God could be deterred?

sometimes i embrace the mystery
fully
and joy expands my being.

sometimes i'm just sad and fearful
and alone.

this pull in my heart-
what does it mean?
or does it mean anything at all?

maybe i am just a silly girl.

maybe

i

am

just

crazy.


either way, really it doesn't matter. i don't think.

i write in code
so as not to give myself away
i hide
in words
and hazy phrases
that don't really say anything at all.

tonight it just hurts
and i want a room of my own
a sanctuary
with a coffeemaker
a cat
a bookshelf
and a window.

and a comfy chair to curl up in and read, write, sipping a cup of New Guinea blend. Maybe have etta or billie crooning on my stereo, keeping the loneliness at bay. maybe with someone who has the key, letting themselves in, whose entrance i feel more than hear or see.

my Jacob Grace.

you know, that book really f----- me over. (again.)
presented me with every ideal i could hope for, wish for....a happiness so incredible that it almost cannot be believed. a union of souls, depth of understanding and connection- and in the end? it all comes to a crashing halt anyway.
almost as if the author herself couldn't really bring herself to believe that it could happen, that love can exist like that.
so, why did i reread it?, you may ask- i think it is because i want to so desperately believe that it exists, and that it will stay. i couldn't bring myself to reread the ending. To ingest that ending again would be too traumatic to what faith i have left.

God-Shaped Hole, indeed.

sigh,
i want to love without fear.
"When the mystery goes, love goes..."

my heart whispers,
quietly, fearfully, hopefully-
stay
stay
stay.