And A Sleepy Little Dreamer (With Just Miles To Go).

I have had a long day full of quiet. The only real things which left my lips were the breaths which I slowly exhaled. I woke up early and walked around the apartment, wrote a letter, looked at some things online. I have been thinking of sending a secret to Post Secret. I might make a bunch of them and see how it goes.

My astro-horoscope told me something highly untrue. My day has been one solid block of ice and my attempts to chip away at it were pitiful, at best. I tried to melt it, to push it out of place. And I just sat there, covering my face and tried not to look at it. Things added up and weighed down on me, they held more space than they usually do, watching me from the corners of my house. I am caught between Scylla and Charybdis, losing my footing and falling forward into the storm.

Also, I am overly emotional, excessive. I feel things briefly and they echo inside me and I feel them again wholly, all the way through me, and then again as a memory. When the days shorten, when they darken so early, it seems as though they never even began. I loom through them confused as to how the sun could so soon be gone.

Tomorrow bounces on the horizon, beaming before my eyes. I will wake up early and spend all day working, hopefully finding time on break for a glass of rose and a tarte flambee. That brief time spent at the square between shifts always saves me. I am rejuvenated by Kombucha and lardons, by rustic pear tarts and Gruet Rose. And then it is back across the crowded roads and into the bistro where a bustling, crackling fire and a wine varietal quiz awaits me. I enjoy the quick hustling before the shift, the round table family meals where we laugh and recite the plat du jour.

And yet it is all these comforts which scare me the most. I want to leave everything behind and travel, let the weight of my words rest on my lips and let another language envelop my mind. I want to have something new to see and touch and know. And the more things I find to love, the harder it is to let them go.

And I speak of these things as they happen to figure out what they mean and what they are. I do not get ahead of myself and to be aware of each moment. I see things so clearly, always. And when I am around people who see me see things, when I can speak to them of what I see and when I can see in their eyes that they understand me, I am humbled and happy and what I see means more because they've seen it too.

I have come to love so many people so much. People who have made me realize that it is not useless to try to change people, as I am always told. People have shown me that I have the ability to teach people things I never really realized I could. I'm not bragging, no sir. I am just very glad to have been given the chance to know them. I change too, knowing them. Knowing that we will always know each other. That we will never let anything get in the way of the words we make, the words which are the only things that really live.

I am floundering now, gasping for breath. I simply need to write more. I just need to think in words, about words.