I run, I run, I run.
Oct. 29th, 2002 11:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
crowsIt’s time to be clean again, clean like the snow I know is coming. Maybe, this year, I’ll appreciate it like my sister does. Maybe, this year, it will be beautiful. The white will be blue, and I’ll be reminded in him with every whisper the wind grants me.
My Lover is the Sky... As adapted from Peter Murphy. My blood is shrieking, but it’s muted by the cold I feel. My body wants to hibernate... wants to rest, even though I have. Life draws me nearer and nearer to this god damned competition and I’m not prepared. Thursday. Six AM my plane leaves. The Tiger said I ought to bring three changes of clothes, doodle books, music, my dress, and a picture of my boyfriend. Which would be, of course, him. I’ll have to print that off tonight. I proceeded to remind him that I also had to bring one or more of my dragons. Probably the small stuffed one that always travels by air with me. I’ve just now recalled how much of a nightmare the airport itself is going to be, with all of it’s fashionable panic and inefficient fussing over every little speck of dust that drifts through the doors (*gasp* What if it’s ANTHRAX?!)
Sorry. I’m tired, irritable, cold, hungry, and bitter. Tiger kisses soothe the bruises, however, he has a job and I have schooling to attend to. So, outside of his presence, I’m standoffish and bitter... because I can be.
I’ve encountered my former lover... recently. Exchanged words for the first time in a few months... though I’ll bet that, to the lady he was speaking with (hitting on; she’s thirty, he’s twenty, I doubt he knew how old she was. Made me snicker.) we probably didn’t seem to know each other. At least not well. I doubt we do anymore. I like being with someone who makes time to come to my performances, who I can trust no matter who he’s with, who doesn’t get irritable with my mind swings... who not only says with his breath that he loves me all the time, but also with his touch and posture, and his eyes. Someone I can trust with everything. I didn’t think that was part of the game before... and this frightens me...
I worry that my confessions are growing too deep. I’ve mentioned things that select readers of my journal will understand more than the wandering faces who don’t know my name. But, then again, Vayleen is my sister and thusly privy to the information anyway. Kisses to her.
My Lover is the Sky... As adapted from Peter Murphy. My blood is shrieking, but it’s muted by the cold I feel. My body wants to hibernate... wants to rest, even though I have. Life draws me nearer and nearer to this god damned competition and I’m not prepared. Thursday. Six AM my plane leaves. The Tiger said I ought to bring three changes of clothes, doodle books, music, my dress, and a picture of my boyfriend. Which would be, of course, him. I’ll have to print that off tonight. I proceeded to remind him that I also had to bring one or more of my dragons. Probably the small stuffed one that always travels by air with me. I’ve just now recalled how much of a nightmare the airport itself is going to be, with all of it’s fashionable panic and inefficient fussing over every little speck of dust that drifts through the doors (*gasp* What if it’s ANTHRAX?!)
Sorry. I’m tired, irritable, cold, hungry, and bitter. Tiger kisses soothe the bruises, however, he has a job and I have schooling to attend to. So, outside of his presence, I’m standoffish and bitter... because I can be.
I’ve encountered my former lover... recently. Exchanged words for the first time in a few months... though I’ll bet that, to the lady he was speaking with (hitting on; she’s thirty, he’s twenty, I doubt he knew how old she was. Made me snicker.) we probably didn’t seem to know each other. At least not well. I doubt we do anymore. I like being with someone who makes time to come to my performances, who I can trust no matter who he’s with, who doesn’t get irritable with my mind swings... who not only says with his breath that he loves me all the time, but also with his touch and posture, and his eyes. Someone I can trust with everything. I didn’t think that was part of the game before... and this frightens me...
I worry that my confessions are growing too deep. I’ve mentioned things that select readers of my journal will understand more than the wandering faces who don’t know my name. But, then again, Vayleen is my sister and thusly privy to the information anyway. Kisses to her.