uNPublished post 3/12/12

It's hard to give up, but sometimes things give up on there own. It's hard to see the end. Or imagine past where I am, somedays.

My hair is growing. It curls in an unsynchorized pattern, little tufts flipping here and there. I don't recongnize myself.

There is the what I should be, what I want to be, and who I am. And they all seem to look different.

Dear Blogg,

This is Raquel, I'm considering getting a cat- but for all the wrong reasons. A mouse eliminator- that's all.

Let me clear my throat, leave out all those cumbersome words- over thought sentences and tell you something. Get close, your thigh my thigh make contact- our joined body heat a halo. Leave out puncuation. Reread nothing. Say exactly what you mean.

I'm not sure if I have a hard time touching what is "real" in others, or if it's hard to allow people to touch what is "real" in me.
I think too much.
Today I counted to 10 when I got mad.
          attempted to hitch hike, but walked most of the way
           was schooled in a basketball game with kids half my height
           picked up an injured 9 year old like I was craddling a baby
           discovered mice have personalities when they played hide and go seek with me..all around the house
           made cookies, hushpuppies, shrimp skewers, mud pies, biscuits, touched 400 shrimps
           danced on an empty dance floor- solo, eyes closed
            had a meaningful conversation with a stranger then listened to him perform
            was called "my little sister" and "my sunshine" by a coworker
            had an old friend walk into a gas station at the very moment I was out of ideas and in need of a hand
            garnished my own meals
            went to the dump
            ran when trying to get from here to there
            had a orange creme float
            didn't recognize myself in a window's reflection
            seriously considered buying a house
            was walked to my car after work
            held a conversation between two floors
            ran into my senior prom date, discovered her talented singing voice via karaoke
            felt like I had to write, but didn't know where to start
 
And here I am, waiting for what I want to say to come out. Not publicly, but just for it to be plain said. So I can go to bed. Unintentional rhyme. So I pause, wait for it to rise, to form.

I'm starting to have mixed feelings about people. I would hate to say I'm becoming jaded, because I refuse to be. Sometimes when I'm speaking to someone, I can tell I'm speaking to a pseduo stand in of them. Sometimes, no matter the amount of interactions we have, I continue to have not a clue of who they are, but a well defined picture of all their fears and insecurities. And eyes, so telling, flashing with mood fluctuations, triggers, and so forth. Then those people who you know especially well, so vunerable, but almost too much- one has to choose their words carefully to say exactly what they mean.