Monday, June 27, 2011
She wears short shorts
We had ran down to eat a little and had seen a girl in short shorts. And she had "bigger" legs. I couldnt help but think "boy, that gal has guts." A blonde boy who may have been 17 stared at me the whole time, pretending to read his phone. I dont know where this is coming from, but its coming from. Like, totally. I wonder. Springsteen was on, and I felt like hanging out my clothes to dry. They really hadnt been washed, but it had rained. I thought this morning could I really do something? Would it all change if I were writing from my house? Would the outlet shine, or just break out in flames and melt off the wall? I had become more than giving up my inhibitions. I had hidden my inhibitians because they could be wrong, or they could have negative connotations. Depending on who read and who mattered and who really just wondered: "What is going on?" I was already back in my chair when I realized I very well couldnt be alone, it wouldnt fly to not have correct spelling. At least not to me. Maybe my third eye opened, maybe I am coming out of a cocoon. Who knows. Well beyond contrite, and unfortunately forgetting content. How do I go on if everything changes? If I change it? If The Lord changes it for me? Im completely unsure of that answer. How would it all be normal if it all changes? Can I embrace that things may just have to be undone in order to move ahead? Forge ahead? Ramble ahead? My slow metamorphosis may be the most healthy thing I can muster. Im desperately caught in a moral battle and depending solely on grace to last through any of it. Yeah, Im you. Im me. Ima little inbetween. Too many exposures and not enough juice or light. I moved from side to side and thought of friendships real and imagined. I was enchanted by all kinds of fantasies of life. I cant depend on a faulty engine, I have to take it to the shop. It must be worked on. Even though I have no idea where to start, I just have to. Hands down, hands up. Hands capable of. Hands capable of destruction, or beginnings. I cant really think of tomorrow. All I have is right now. Whether I am trapped, lost my way, or just blind, now that is an argument! I conjured up these places I cant seem to get out of bed for. Im terrified to speak up, but terrified to never say another word.