by - March 15, 2013

I was lost.  Mired deep and tucked backwards and jarred by the platonic shift of being.  Just being.  Sometimes it's impossible.  And I faked my way through it.  Faked it til I broke.  Faked it until one word let loose a torrent of feeling that burned down my face like acid and I sat in it, ugly.  I do not like to cry for truth.  Truth stings and scars and leaves me breathless.  I like to cry for fiction.  I like to cry for movies for books, for country music.  Not truth.  Never truth.  And when you fight it you only make the fire that much hotter.

So here we go, let loose this flood and be the fool and apologize for stupidity but OWN THAT PAIN and spew it out and mop the floor and.....

........come out the other side.

We've gone through the ringer.

We've built a village on this garbage.

Pieces return.  Those pieces of me set aside to grind this thing out.  Pieces not quite the same because now I'm wearing stress-fat and chocolate acne - pasty-face starved for sunshine - but pieces that are still mine, non the less.

I haven't had it in me for words.  For the spun tale.  For fiction to make me cry.  For creation.

But now that I can breathe again, can I not take up my pen? Can I not find words because with words I feel whole again...that work left untouched since January...?  This forum to spill the goodies of a life I've forgotten to live...?

Last night, the car pushed boldly against the waning hour and I was singing Miranda Lambert loud like an idiot and lightness bloomed out of darkness as I watched a star shoot across the sky to the south and when I got into my driveway I had to just stand there for a moment, head bent back to grasp the panoramic expanse of heavens, dotted with a million blinking lights and I breathed it in, getting drunk on all that beauty - the idiot in her driveway - swallowing peace like a parched desert nomad - drinking peace like a river.

Virginia Woolf said, 'You cannot find peace by avoiding life.'  Well, boy howdy, Virginia, thanks for showing up to the party!  But where were you when this whole thing started???

So we plow forward and we reap hope and we have faith and we overcome.  We shall persevere. 

This post was meant as a sigh of relief - NOT to stir questions, cause concern and such.  Upon reading it, my best friend called me, frantic, thinking my marriage was falling apart.  It is not.  Actually, it's quite good.  In trying to be cryptic and protective I left too much room for speculation. My marriage is good. My family is good. Believe it or not, I've got stuff going on beyond these four walls I call home. That is all. My heart is free of burden - not this guy:

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© Alanna Rusnak