(no subject)

Didn't step into traffic.

Feel like a useless sack of whiny shit.

Have the best friends ever, but dudes, I wish you'd stop using the line 'you're a wonderful person'. To be perfectly irrational for a moment: 1) I don't care, if being an awful person would get me what I want, I'd be it. 2) That's what he said to me, the last night: you're a wonderful person but... 3) I'm just a person, I've got lovely bits and obnoxious bits.

But, still, best friends ever. Right there when I need them, and super solid. Means I feel safe experiencing this pain, I don't have to pack it away and deal with it later. I can feel you guys holding me, and if I spend some of the time feeling like I hate you because you're the wrong people then that's my deficiency and an ingratitude wholly undeserved.

Last night I sat on a small couch between Eva and Mike and was thoroughly snuggled while holding a teddy bear. I felt twelve, and loved. I never felt that loved when I was twelve, lemme tell you. I need to find Friskie asap.

I feel like I'm being sandblasted. I'm not ready to set it down, to leave it behind, to get over it and let the whole thing recede into the past until it disappears behind a veil of growing-up and personality-changes and this-wouldn't-works and we-could-never-do-that-agains. Well, I mean, I guess we're already at some of those points.

Thank you again, everyone-- people who responded here and who answered that text message yesterday. I really appreciate little thinking-of-you notes throughout the day. It helps a *lot*.

Exquisite

http://community.livejournal.com/buried_in_green/131625.html

(no subject)

Greenstorm. Gently. Let it go.

You know how to love people. You're good at it. Love them for what they are, because you can stand on your own; don't love them for what they can give you, what you need from them, for what you wish they were. You learned to do this a long time ago, to let go and just love people. Do it here and though you've lost a lot, though you've lost a beautiful shining dream, you've still gained so much. You know very well the value of a friend like this. You know very well you can trust him. Don't throw this away in a temper tantrum because you can't shape another person to your own desires. That's not what other people are there for-- they're there to be other people, to teach you to flex and adapt and keep from that rigidity you default to so well.

Be calm. Be peaceful in the face of your grief. There will be pain, and this is mourning. That's alright. Feel what is happening to you and let it pass. You have a future still; it's waiting for you. He's in it, and so too are all these people who've reached out to you in the last few days. Here you're finding yourself as you expected to be one day: on your own two feet, with lines of power all around you. Look at your strengths. Look at the strong ties to these fascinating wonderful quirky strong people around you.

Things change. You know this; the Storm never goes away. Things also remain, though. Tonight you see Trevor, and he's been here this whole time. Kynnin and Jan and Dean, though they're only words on a screen, also linger. Mom is always there, changing just as you are. There are trees. Yes, if you loved a mountain the way you loved Angus, or the way you loved your house, it would find some way to spontaneously disappear. That's your lesson to learn. Learn to love things even so. This was part of learning what love means. It was definitely a scaling of new heights. Isn't it lovely to know they can be so high?

Today was all about your back and your shoulders. You let go and were sucked into the feel of it, eventually. You broke concrete with your hands and a piece of metal. It was impressive; your boss was impressed, you were too. That's what brings this quiet in your mind, it's the proper use of yourself. The morning felt so, so awful and now there is this peace.

That's the job you do now. Look forward to it, to learning more this summer.

You're missing a companion most right now, someone to talk abotu your day everty evening to, and to wish a good day to every morning.

Answer the phone. You're loved.

Outer Monologue

Last post was the kind of thing I say to myself when I'm walking down the street, inside my head. This post is the kind of thing I want someone to talk to about in the daily-chatter kind of way. I think that really is what I'll miss most, having someone who knows the daily story of my life, and whose daily story I am interested in. Well, that and the fantastic sex. Well, and also... you know, enough.

I was going to say that my arms burn like crazy right now from using the digging bar on concrete all day. The muscles are back. There's no soft left on my arms anymore, and my back is firming up. I've been outside in a tank top a lot, and my tan is coming back-- I haven't burnt yet despite putting in full days out there, so I think last year's sun exposure taught my skin how to react (hint: not to burn in ten minutes sitting at a bus stop). I'm not in the mood to think about whether I'm pretty, but I like my body right now-- except the hair. Dreadlocks, or razor cut? Think the punk style in rock band with the two long side pieces and two bright colours.

It was really nice to talk to Trevor tonight. His relationship stuff has sucked too, but he's (as always) much clearer and more levelheaded about these things than I am. It feels good to be with someone I'm friends with and not have to worry, because, well... we're friends. Things that have stood the test of time are precious.

Life is precious. Anyhow, over and out.