|Snow White illustrated 1974 by Trina Schart Hyman|
Hullo space. I miss you. I keep entertaining ideas of hanging out here and writing amazing things, but those are for later. For now I am just trying to slip from one day to the next with the greatest of speed. I am working on a show that is emotionally horrendous for me, but with amazing people who help me care for myself.
I feel like Snow White in the illustration above, only I have yet to make it to the house of the Dwarves. I am endlessly running. Sleep brings the tiny slice of death that grants me a temporary reprieve. I work hard to remember to eat and drink water. Tiny things are good right now. I have a scarf that is my bus therapy, I have a book to read that allows me escape. I need at least one full day, if not two or three, spent entirely alone just to recuperate. It's times like these that I so wish I had my driver's license. I have no means of escape from the drone of the city. I cannot seek out the peace and quiet of the forest, nor the meditation of the Pacific coast. I need a week spent in a cabin where my greatest struggle is what I'll make for breakfast in the morning. A wood stove would keep the cabin toasty, I'd have endless cups of black coffee and mismatched china or enamel plates of breakfast. Eggs and toast with homemade jam, pancakes dappled with powdered sugar, sausages cooked until their skins turn black and burst. This is what I long for, ache for, right now. I need to plan some way to get away soon. Away from humans. Away from everything. Just for a bit.
I feel guilty for posting this, but post this I will. I feel guilty because I feel like I am complaining about the things that are troubling me at present. I am not complaining though, I am stating. I am making an emotional bid for attention, a plea for help. I am okay. Things will get better. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Bear with me.