The Night is too Cold to Talk

I should be working on my government final, but my mind is just exploding with built up words. They just stuff themselves behind my eyeballs and forehead pushing on my skin, chomping on my nerves. I can’t concentrate one more second, until I get things down. I’m 18, just turned it. I feel…young, inexperienced. I feel alone too, so many of my friends are not attached to me anymore. So much of my heart lays dormant, snuggling into itself. I have overcome so much though in the past year. So much hate has evaporated, simply leaving me in peace. If nothing else love is a great healer. The medicine sometimes hurts as much as the disease but it is not a lasting pain. It hurts to be loved, to feel such ecstasy and then lose it, but every moment you allow yourself to love and be loved. Your wounds are healing themselves. I am no longer able to slip back in the old track. I can’t rub the skin away to bone anymore. I am healed, like it or not. The world is opening up.

My words are precious parts of me; each one is created uniquely in my mind. There are nights when they sweat down the prison walls heated by love and lust, mingling their blood in long passionate stories. There are moments when they slip like tears down my cheeks pleading to be caught in my fingers, held and comforted. My words are alive; each with a heart beat and filled up with an emotion so intense that some cannot bear each other. I write to feel.

Too much goes on right now in my life. There are finals to be written and deadlines to fulfill, people to butter up and people to rip down. There are presents to be bought and wrapped, animals to be looked after. There are things to write and draw and think about. Body maintenance needs to be a priority. I have to wash this tummy ring twice daily if I don’t want an infection. I need to wash my hair to prevent nastiness. My eyebrows and legs and skin need looking after. There are creams and powders and boy-entrancers to apply. Make up to paint over the reality. Then there is a room to clean and a trip to plan. While we are planning there is also the future to look too. I have no idea where I am going. Tomorrow is Tuesday, a day between Monday and Wednesday. I must be finished with everything by Wednesday.

Someone asked me today what the force behind life was. I do not know the answer. Well yes in a way I do. The answer is God I know that. But I am not sure I know God. Perhaps that can be learned. God exists, of this I am sure, but I do not know what to do with this information.

The ice is building around my windows and up to the roof. My room has the smell of cold places. 8 comforters are piled on my bed in pell-mell fashion waiting to be nested in. when I sleep I look like nothing so much as one of my brothers new little gerbils, I crawl under the bedding and curl into myself wrapping my body around the loneliest part of me… My heart.