In and out of focus. Shower, huddling, not scared.

Lights and patterns and distorted sound. I have heard this sound before but I do not know where or why. I have seen this before! Look! It is deja vu all over again!

Curled up in the fetal position. Every part of my body feels more alive than it has ever felt before. I can’t open my eyes. Yes I can; I just can’t see. A conversation. Feelings revealed: No. She does not want children. No. She doesn’t really want to align her life with them. She does not want to make the accomodations that are required. Will she do it anyway? Maybe. Depends on how much she loves the grown ups. More talking later. Communication. All of a sudden a family is born. It has been progressing that way for a while, but something flipped, befored the OJ so it wasn’t the OJ. We are Lost and Found. Are we? It fits. It feels right. So much feels right about this set-up. More communication needs to happen.

Arriving at the house. They are sleeping. They look so sweet asleep. I find myself loving them both, for different reasons in different ways. I don’t love her any more because she is his beloved, but just because she is worthy of being loved. Yes yes, everyone deserves love. Not everyone deservesmy love. She does. He does. Petty irritations of the past week and some aren’t so important anymore. Yes. I choose this. Yes, I want to be here. I was lost, and now I’m found.

“Welcome home,” said after sweet sex, I want to call it love-making, but it wasn’t gentle. Does it have to be gentle to be love-making?

Trips, and trails, and puppy dogs tails. That is what my Saturday night was made of. Ok, no puppy dog tails. Instead, admiring glances at the tail of a boy I have quite a high opinion of.

Cold, hot. wet. dry. Where am I? I have been here. I know here. I have never been here. Why do I know here?

“You can’t fuck me because there is no moisture left in my body.” Why don’t you know that when I say that I mean you should go get lube? Oh yeah, because you can’t read my fuzzy mind. Damn clarity. Pins and needles and scratchy itchiness. My head aches from the savageness of my nails across my scalp. My neck and back hurt, there are probably marks from my own nails.

Now:
Confused. Not really sad, but not quite happy either. Disconnected, connected, disaffected. But to whom/what do I direct my disaffectedness? I know not. Me maybe? I want. I want to be held and have my head stroked. I want to be talked to and not with. I want love and approval. I didn’t need to leave them, but I had to go home. This is my home now. Space. Inviolable space. Mine. Not to be shared. Well, at least not my room. The rest is shared. But that is inconsequential.

I want to be stroked and loved in my space. It isn’t going to happen tonight though. And that is ok. I don’t need it–it would just be nice.