Talk and Song; Constellations and Lilac

I am a real person. My sense of smell diminishes slowly, and my unaided vision is blurry. I can write gorgeous, meaningful music. I can tell you the truth, and always will.

I crave intimacy with other people's lives. Their cares, their fears, their dreams. I abhor the assumption that I probably just wouldn't understand. Even worse, I hate the assumption that I probably just wouldn't care. I do care. More than you know.

Help me live my life, be a real person. Help me seize caution, and throw it into the raging cyclone. Then hold my hand, tell me its okay, when that scares the hell out of me. I'll believe you.

Don't hold yourself back, but don't cut me loose. Take me down the paths upon which I may seem uneasy, I'd rather gain my footing on a crookedly line than watch you walk off over the horizon. I'll learn, and I will be better for it. And I'll be there, when the time comes. That's all that matters. That's all that will ever matter to me.

Maybe I'm Amazed

Spring has come at last, and I'm starting to feel healthy. I've got another great job for the summer, and I'm being steadily reminded of late about just what amazing friends I have. My perceptions are starting to balance out again, no longer lingering so heavily in dark imaginings, but more firmly in sober notice-ings. This is happening both outside myself, and about internal truths as well.

I'm still tired more than I should be, but with a little consistent effort, I think that can be rectified. Patience. Patience, patience. Journey well, and pace yourself when you come across these deserts. The mirages will give way to real love, which was all around you the whole time.

Time for rest.