I knew this guy...

Journal Entry... dated about 2 months back......before Christmas. Before a lot.

Today I’m feeling what I believe to be anxiety. If anxiety is that thing that makes me feel like my clothes are choking me and I am standing outside of my body looking at myself and all the other feckless rubes wandering aimlessly around this planet—overly sensitized to the trivial nature of most things—worried that none of what I do will ever matter… if that characterizes anxiety then anxiety is what I have. Anxiety is supposed to be a bad thing. A thing that requires medication. I believe that without it nothing would ever change. People would walk around numbed and contented with the status quo. I am NOT okay with the current situation, my life. My life tastes of stagnant water.

THIS is not about to head into a detailed account of all my “Daddy issues”, failed relationships, blame placing etcetera… okay, well no promises… it might… we, my beloved friends, are about to dive into my imagination. My subconscious and on rare occasions a state of heightened consciousness (these moments of increased self awareness are treasured). I think the point of living is to be able to achieve this state of amplified awareness in every moment of your life. Ultimately, the goal is to be awakened to the beauty of love, the power and awe of nature and the uniqueness of each human struggle. Awakened every day, in every interaction, in every word spoken. Aware of the footprints you leave during your “walk” about this planet.
The man (side note: I’m at a weird stage in my life where I find it hard to refer to myself as a woman, though I know I am a woman… a woman in my early stages of womanhood—the early definitive stages—clearly confused and easily thrown off course) The person I’m currently involved with sees things in people. Strange things. He talks to homeless people on the street. He hugs them. He shakes their hands. These people make ME take a few steps back. They make ME feel dirty. That pisses me off.

He is wonderfully different. He is like adding one of those little packets of Crystal Light to my glass of stagnant water… he adds color and flavor. Crystal Light insinuates that HE is low calorie, safe, etc. We shall refer to him as hot cocoa powder instead. But, you add the cocoa to milk and the idea of stagnant milk is way disgusting. And, cocoa makes him sound like he is of African American descent, which he is not. Okay, I’m done with beverage metaphors. Not that black is bad. I’m no racist. It’s just that he is white and I don’t want to mislead anyone into thinking I’m carrying on a saucy affair with an exotic cocoa skinned man when I am really just dating a whitey.

I’m scared. Sometimes I want to be sure that my life is colorful without the help of another person. I want to be certain that I’m not using a man to light my room. They cast such a lovely light though…

When he touches things he uses his fingers in such a delicate way. He uses the pads of skin on the tips of his fingers in the same way a cat uses whiskers. It’s as though the colors and textures of objects are amplified by his touch. It’s beautiful to watch him do just about anything.