runaround.

Pay attention to this because I won't admit or say it often, but:

I am actually feeling.. something. right now. FEELING. Alive.

Not faking. Or lying. Or pretending. Or acting out of obligation.
It's simply happening.

There's no suffering involved. No starving. or skin scratched out. or trying to die. or placing myself into horrid, miserable situations just to experience the slightest stir inside of myself.

(There's a me that isn't a character. Don't worry. I don't know her that well either.)

I just read something that literally knocked the breath out of my lungs.

No one can keep up with me. At least, that's my assumption at this point.

There is this huge gravitational pull on my body. Just stretching me out in all directions.

Waiting to lose an appendage is like any other sort of waiting.

Last week I told Dan the one thing I wanted to see most in the whole world was the Aurora Borealis (the Northern Lights). That dream of staring at something not made by man that blows my mind. I've never told anyone that before. The small circle of people i'm surrounding myself with are slowly tearing down my walls. I wonder if people who watched the Berlin Wall feel the same. Did they immediately walk across into the newly found territory? No, i'm too hesitant. It will require some Time.

I've had a moment from the movie 'Timer'. Short summary: Set in the future where everyone has a timer implanted beneath the skin in their arm that begins zeroed out. When their soulmate also has a timer implanted both clocks start counting down to the exact moment they will meet each other. I think you receive your implant at like age 15 or something, and it's mostly voluntary. But the point of the story is, the main character's timer NEVER starts to countdown. Just sits at zero for years and years. So, she decides to buck the trend and date someone who doesn't have a timer, who doesn't believe in soulmates.

More often than not, I am involved with a "nothing" and faking for their sake that it will magically transform into a "something." Now there's a "something" that in the final dramatic scene will go up in a poof of "nothing" smoke. And, i'm okay with that. But God.. what's the lesser of the two?

I knocked some of my books off the shelf today and as I was picking them up I found a piece of paper peeking out of one of my favorite books, The Bell Jar, by Plath of course. I'd written in really tiny letters:

"I'm nothing, If not vaguely cryptic."

I don't recall writing it. EVER. The note seemed recent enough, though. The paper still white and crisp, scented with the faint scent of my sweet perfume. My memory is outrageous. Embarrassing at times even. (You know, when I remember some minute detail and it makes someone feel special when they actually aren't.) But this note? I don't know. I just don't know.

I'm freaking myself out.

Oh, and I smiled.
The genuine kind.