about today

how close am i.
to losing you.
to wherever you're going.
to losing.

i'm glad i felt elated a few moments ago. but the song--the strings--crescendo, decrescendo, legato, harmony...
i am so close to it inside. so close to breaking, i've been hanging on.

i'm hanging on to what sanity is keeping me rooted here. what will i do if my legs become too numb to move?

there are two situations. two ways this could go.

i could go over.
i could go under.

matt berninger's deep, resigned voice breathes in the background. the fan on the ceiling is still stuck at medium speed. and the air outside is muggy, although the sky would beg you to believe that rain would fall.

i could sit here and watch either of you go.
and as much as i would like to do something about both of you, past experiences and current habits of avoiding confrontations at every possible turn suggest that i will watch you take off, and you lie there.

i feel helpless. i know i'm not, but i feel it. it's like having a mexican standoff with the moth in my room. it's huge. i need to get it out; i work out all these plans in my head. just to get an oversized, papery-winged nuisance out of the corner right above my bed. i'll eventually get it out. but none of this real courage will ever surface. if it does, it'll kick the dirt right back into my face, my eyes will hurt, and i'll start crying again. and that's happened before, and things were awkward forevermore between us.

there is a real wall between me and another. you're surrounded by hospital walls, and hospital beds, hospital patients with hospital gowns. but you're surrounded by family and loved ones at least...i don't know if i'll ever see you, though, and no matter what feelings i had then, i just want to visit you and wish you well. obligation?--like nothing i've ever felt tugging on my heart.

other than the other thing.

what helplessness of the mind has taken over that i use the moth as an analogy?

good god, this is a great beginning to a new chapter in my life.

the moth just flew out my window.
why was the window even open?