it-is's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- blowing bubbles with the air i can breathe AH took me out for dinner tonight because otherwise I probably wouldn't have eaten. He has been a literal life-saver, because I think I wouldn't still be here if not for him. We ate mussels and beef tartar and drank margaritas and made horrible, inappropriate jokes about awful things in the world, walked until my feet hurt and enjoyed the warmth of the night, drank shots with his friends, made plans for a future I didn't expect to have, and then said goodnight. And as long as I stay here, in the right now of this moment, I'm okay. I just can't think about tomorrow. Not yet. I'm not there yet. Here is where I am safe, and happy, and okay. Here is a bubble that will burst if I wander too far into the past, or the future. I keep thinking about the kelp on the helm of the boat, racing through the water. And of the small steps that eventually get you where you need to go, each individual step seemingly insignificant until you reach your destination. Those small steps are in the bubble, not the destination. The imperfection of the kelp that will slow me down further if I try to remove it are in the bubble. And I can't let this bubble burst. I've only just made it. It is fragile and translucent and hazy-slick with oily rainbows, everything outside it distorted and grey. I don't like things that are perfect; there is an ugliness to perfection. I don't know why I strove for it for so long. Let the kelp stay where it is. And take small steps. 1:53 a.m. - 2022-05-06 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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