So often I love the blank page of a blog. I could write anything here.
I could write: some plankton can make little clouds above their own heads when the sun is too bright. This is true.
I could write: some people bring their rainclouds with them wherever they go. I am afraid of becoming this kind of person. This is metaphorically true, then just actually true.
I could write: some people find so much silver lining in their clouds that it weighs them down and they drown in fog, and drip with precious, and never go anywhere at all. I am not certain if this is even metaphorically true, but it rings a kind of way.
Yes, this is a space for anything, though I like to write true stories best, and sometimes I wish there were prompt templates that guided those truths like a diary I had when I was twelve.
What is the hardest part of life right now?
That is May again. All the old Mays still pour over me like silver rain and low cloud. One wrong step in May and people die. One wrong step in May and your freedom tarnishes beyond repair. These are not true things, just true fears. But didn’t it happen before? Didn’t it?
What is the best part of life right now?
Life itself. I don’t know if it’s the new job, or the class about how to be politically active, or the work I’ve been doing with juvenile detention facilities and mental health groups– but I feel like I’m facing in the right direction. I feel like there’s so much out there that has been sunburning me, but I have learned how to make tiny clouds.
Mamasaur says there is one second in every single day where anything you say comes true. This is almost certainly not true at all, but still my tongue folds around my wishes, my fingers press them under my nails, my pores close up to hold them back– stilling them from unfurling until I am certain.
Today, this year, I am certain about this:
I wish I weren’t so scared of Mays.
I love the blank page of a blog.
I can name things here. Set them down. And then never pick them up again unless it serves.
I think this is possible.
I hope this is true.