I would want to wonder what the meaning of my contained catastrophes would be six months from today. It's more official now that I'm not going home for Christmas, it's even more official that Ryan will not be coming home for Christmas, and my roommate will hardly be home for most of the Christmas. I have held strength in my voice on phone calls and had tears pushed back into tidal waves that broke after conversations on skype.
"should tears come, let them come to wash away bitterness..". Not sure of how many of these cleansings I need to go through before things could stop staining me mudd. This place will make a woman of me, I knew that months ago before knowing what it meant. There are always the moments of light and I am surely grateful over each one.
I was too broken this week not to break with my fears of performing. It was an almost involuntary seizing of a moment, and I got my release. I needed to be sure I was still breathing. I needed to get out of the numbness. So I did so. Maybe I just need to embrace the empty, so I can find my voice back. I forgot what I sounded like until last weekend in the booth.
I've been singing my way out of this last week. Trying to call my song back out of the silence. It sometimes feels like the only thing to do when the coldness is pressing its weightlessness against your body. I hate the way I always know everything before it happens. It makes me sound faithless.
Time will come and go as it needs to. I might turn into a Neruda by the end of January. That would in itself be wonderful too. I am smiling tonight though.
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