I sometimes wonder...

It has officially been One of Those Weeks, except it's really been more like two weeks, but whatever. The world is going haywire, and I was having a hard enough time keeping myself together without that, thanks very much, but things happen whether you want them to or not, and here we are.

I'm doing the best I can with what I have. That's all anyone can do, really. I had to get some of the Feelings-With-A-Capital-F out of my system, this is how they manifested, and now you get to read it.

Or not. It's completely up to you.

There is a lot of shit happening right now. I hope that all of you are well and content and looking after yourselves, each other, and, if you have the bandwidth, looking after anyone else who needs it right now.

This is me giving you your preferred type of well wishes. <3 <3 <3



Wonder

I sometimes wonder
what it would be like to know that feeling where you can fall,
 
and trust you’ll be caught.


I sometimes wonder,
because isn’t that supposed to be something we all have
at some point
or another
from someone
or another?
Or is it maybe something made up?
Some Hollywood construct that if you don’t have, you pretend you do,
because you’re supposed to, and if you don’t,

you’re wrong?


I sometimes wonder
what belonging to someone feels like.
Is it that pins-and-needles feeling washing through your soul in a wave
and soothing all your broken places?
Is it calm?
Or is it chaotic, like a dust devil or a maelstrom or a basket full of puppies?

Does it hurt?


I sometimes wonder
if it’s true that everyone ceases to exist when I can’t see them anymore.

It would explain the emptiness.


I sometimes wonder
if maybe
I might be part inflatable clown.
The kind you punch and it pops back up
again
and again
and again

because it has no choice in the matter.


I sometimes wonder
how long it’s going to be until my ribbon breaks.
The one that hangs off my ankle,
keeping me tied down but not grounded;
because touching down means opening up
and the blacktop sits at a permanent 200 degrees.

It’s hard to land when you’re afraid of getting burned.


I sometimes wonder
when I’ll stop flying.
Falling is an option, but it’s also a death sentence.
If my ribbon breaks, falling and floating away become the same thing.
I’m tired of flying because I have to.

What is that ribbon even attached to, anyway?


I sometimes wonder
what would happen if someone reeled me in by my ribbon.
If I was too afraid to come all the way would they let me sit on their shoulders
until I was ready
to stand on their feet
until I was ready
to feel the ground?
 
Or is that asking too much?


I sometimes wonder
lots of things,

but I rarely get any answers.