I feel as if I have been broken open. I feel like I am beginning something totally beyond this world that I thought I knew, and part of me wants to turn back and return to what I know. Surround myself with the type of people I can decode quickly. It's a blueprint I can read. It's easier that way.
I'm sitting in the library and there's a thunder storm. The library's entirety is masked with giant windows, so you can really feel the whole open scene of where you sit. Kind of like a giant exhale.
All of the trees are swaying side to side, brushing eachother's leaves and exchanging small talk. Chattering. It is their tete a tete. And now the path near the creek is changing shades slowly, and now more quickly from the rainfall. Soon it will be sunny again.
It's quiet in here and I can feel change inside my body. In a way, it feels slow, because of the amount of hours in-between each new person, new sound, new thought I absorb. That time, the waiting time, feels so slow. Almost painful. But then something moves beneath my feet, a sort of storm, and these changes feel momentous. As if I shift completely, or at least recognize some new magic piece that I never knew was really alive. And now it's real, because I felt it myself. I feel as if I am about to learn clay secrets, and it's scary. It could be exhilarating. It will be.
But now, I just feel cracked open, as if something will pour out of me and I hope it's not sadness. I don't think it is. Not this time.
I am, for now, a mailbox waiting to be opened and closed, wishing for letters, wondering who will write to me, what I'll send away, what animals will crawl on my frame, leave their tiny footprints beneath my pale petals, my skin.
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