heidixbearr
Eat. Eat. I gotta eat.
I think to myself as I go about my day.
Fold the laundry.
Eat, please.
I start working on the dishes.
When I finish this, I'm going to eat something.
I search the fridge.
Distracted; "mommy, can you help me find..."
Searched.
Found.
When was the last time I bathed?
Eat something. After my shower. Okay.
Up the stairs.
Rinsed, not washed.
The baby is crying now.
Nursed, burped, colicked.
Once he's asleep, you gotta feed yourself.
Creaking stairs. Click clacks of heels on tile floors. Sticky feet, sucking themselves into the ground. Wet footprints left behind on hot, dry concrete.
The anticipation was killing me.
Here I am, facing what could be the scariest moment of my life.
"Well? are you gonna go or not?"
I shot him an annoyed look, riddled with fear.
I can stop.
I turned and faced my back to the open door, wind whipping my hair.
Thirty thousand feet up sure is cold.
I can stay here, in the cabin.
This is a choice.
I decided to let the earth call me back into his arms.
Lean back, freefall.
A peculiar fruit, the olive. Sold, packaged, pickled, stuffed, gutted, processed, plucked from the tree, pollinated, flowered, risen from earth. It's grown from itself; an olive.
I suppose that it was the most fascinating thing about her: her absolute lack of inhibition. She wears nothing but her bare feet and a shirt four sizes too large; our living room floor has become her stage, and the Earth falls silent. I gaze upon her as she floats, gentle points of toes like kisses to the atmosphere. The hemline of her make-shift ballgown breezes with her movements, as if it has been waiting for her. Long and soft, outstretched fingers, an extension of her soul. She is oneness.
The narrow pathway down the hall. Dark, alone, empty. Run. Run as fast as you can down it, slide on your knees and laugh by yourself. You aren't alone in this world, you know. You always have your own company.
Circling and encircling, creeping in. The darkness spirals out of control; I am in the eye of the storm. Slowly it sucks me in, quietly; no where to go. Breathe.
You come into this world, believing that you are entitled to certain things. Things like food, shelter, a parent's love. It's a sad day when you know that there are millions of people out there, suffering without them.
The ordinary pigeon, perched at the highest point of the city, watching. He could fly away, but that would be too simple. Someone has to keep this city safe.
You can't have your cake and eat it too, they say. You cant have both happiness and satisfaction. I say find your happiness, enjoy your satisfaction, and share it with the world. There is no reason for the world not to have a little piece of your cake.
load more entries