i started a blog last night, but never published it. how good it felt to say those things.
i’ll leave those words in a space to be discovered by some college boy a million years from now. he will have discovered a way to pull bullshit out of thin air, i presume.
i’ve fallen in love again. i found words that fill me more than my grandma’s hamburgers with gravy and potato salad. i’ve fallen in love with toni morrison.
wet behind the ears, i’ve become again. i love it.
i found this:
“She is a friend of my mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order.”
— Toni Morrison
and i thought about those who gather me, man. who put me back in all the right order.
and what i wrote last night was something to the effect of:
“the mourning may begin.
sometimes at 1:00am you have to delete a facebook friendship because days prior you tried to make yourself cry in the shower to rid your body of the excess bullshit that relationship gathered. it did quite a bit of gathering, didn’t it?
write while hurt. as soon as it happens. the shit that exists in that moment may never return. write. write. write.”
and i woke up. not mourning but thinking about my friend who encouraged me to wear the black today and hope for rain.
jill gathers me, man. the pieces i am.
i was hoping for tears, but they never came, so i just kept writing. i wrote letters and poetry and invisible words on those things our eyes see that our brains can’t.
this is how i mourn. not for as long as i can remember, but at least since my great grandmother’s husband died in detroit shortly after i purchased the journal with the red cover. i wrote in the church from the third pew.
this is therapy, too, isn’t it?