To Feel // Vol. 02

Last night I couldn't rest,

odd and out of place.

I often go out heavy.

Sleep quickly, surely arrives.

But fussy turns and tosses,

filled my side of the bed.

Then your breath, steady and rhythmic,

my very own pendulum.

I eavesdropped on your breathing,

carefully synching mine with yours.

Inhale a beat shorter than the let out.

I did the same.

And in that moment,

our energies meshed.

Together breathing, 

the sweetest mechanical thing,

letting sleep permeate my mind.

You offer me comfort, even in slumber, 

unconsciously, unknowingly, 

you are there.

A stream of nows.

It has been some time since I sat down, shoulders squared, to write freely in this space. I am unsure if I ever have. Usually my posts are planned, carefully even, being the perfectionist I am. I can't seem to kick that version of me to the curb -- it keeps around like an annoying hangnail. My whole life, right now, thirty-seven years from now. Edges are folded crisp, handwritten lists are immaculate -- else I write them again. Paragraphs read thrice to really comprehend -- I must confess here that I do understand the first time, second and third times are to feel. Words need to hit my bones or else I'm uninterested.

This mentality is more foe than companion and is not something I can just rid of. My childhood, adolescence, teenage years, were filled with straight A's and enough test anxiety to shake a stick at. Now, as a young woman busy busy with planning and wedding details, the fusspot bubbles up inside of me -- an overenthusiastic Yorkie just so impatient to get everything done, now. Perfectly. Right. Now.

But I made a vow to myself long ago to be driven by as much elegance and grace as I can. To bestow kindness to others, yes of course, but to not forget about myself. Remembering to eat meals and breathe breaths. To not fight that urge to collapse on our perfect little sofa with a cable knit throw, some tea, swirling daydreams, and a good book -- giving a mental nod to the always unexpected, always warm epiphany: all we have is time!

And I am okay, at this time, right now.

To Feel // Vol. 01

Will there ever be a time in space, in existence, where all the thoughts will be thought, every invention from then on would be stale repeats. Feelings felt, predetermined sensations. Greys and in-betweens.

Surely though, surely, I wouldn't mind one bit because if I get to feel what I feel with you, all the other replications of being, every unoriginal thing wouldn't matter at all.