greenstorm | (no subject)

Here is morning. I always wake up in these greys. Yesterday morning I woke up and had one of those conversations, slow, intimate, together-- morning conversations. It's awakened a sense of loss in me when all I do, now, is wake up and sit at the computer and go to work. No one else wakes up at this time. There is no one to sit and drink tea with, no one to call on the phone. Mornings are the hushed time, for closeness, and this is a waste.

You see? I'm beginning, a little, to catch up on my sleep. I'm beginning to have a little space. And there's a little edge of dissatisfaction creeping in, just an ever-so-tiny one. I like to be used to the greatest extent possible, to flex my abilities and time until the point just before the snap. Who would have thought? Shifting gears down into quiet for a time is doing to be difficult and bumpy. It will be done, but there will be jolting. Part of this jolting will be to remember to converse with myself again, not just to encourage myself but also to share presence with myself. Part of it will be to learn that time not spent in something specific is not time wasted.

Everyone would rather be building the thing rather than sitting back and enjoying it, it seems. You've done it, you've made it, and now--? Free-floating angst, loss, a sense of confusion. Things were supposed to be better here, they say. I've got a lot of building left before I get to that stage. Pre-warned, perhaps I'll be able to shift into it better.

None of this makes sense. All of this is words against being alone in the morning. I'll stop now, and go curl up next to a sleeping boy, and breathe. When they sleep, they are so far away. When they sleep, it's intimate and vulnerable, it's a trust offered up into careless hands.