Sarah .'s Blog: now's a terrible time to forget again., page 49

chapters six and seven in progress

chapters six and seven in progress

chapters six and seven in progress

chapters six and seven in progress

chapters six and seven in progress

chapters six and seven in progress

chapters six and seven in progress

chapters six and seven in progress

chapters six and seven in progress

chapters six and seven in progress

chapters six and seven in progress

chapters six and seven in progress

Credit pls

chapters four, five, and six, and the transitions between, are...

chapters four, five, and six, and the transitions between, are crushing me. the highs and lows are both beyond anything. 

i’m entirely and unendingly thankful, but i am also exhausted and aching and falling at apart at every turn.

this was my first real thought this morning.it was still dark...

this was my first real thought this morning.

it was still dark outside. Ziggy was running around in the grass and i had been crying on and off the last few hours between not sleeping and kind-of-not-really sleeping, but just like that, i looked up and i don’t know where it came from, but it went so deep.  i can still see the stars.

i love the stars so much.  we’ve had lots of walks and talks, me and the stars.  

the midwest isn’t great at everything, but man, the stars …

i came back upstairs with Ziggy and was crying in the kitchen when my girl messaged me, her last few hours much like my own.  when i told her about it and she asked what i thought it meant, i didn’t know how to answer.  i just knew how it felt.

i can still see the stars.

i’m terrified of the end of the world.  i have been for as long as i can remember.  aliens, disease, zombies, meteors, war, fallout, mother earth herself collapsing in on us, because of us.  when December 21st 2012 approached, i was so panic-stressed i couldn’t leave my apartment.  fear is rarely rational.  please don’t laugh.  but when that day came and went by, and the sun came up on the 22nd, obviously that didn’t rule out a single one of the grillion terrifying possibilities that still existed, crawling around in the back of my mind, but the sun did come up.  

it has every day since then, and every day since then, i’ve acknowledged it. sometimes to my person, but usually just quietly, to my self or to paper, and more often than not, the gratitude i feel makes me cry.  

the good kind.  the because you’re that deeply thankful kind.

this morning, my eyes were swelled-up sore.  my chest hurt.  my stomach hurt.  i was scared all over. angry all over. disappointed and frustrated and sad and so fucking scared all over my whole body because last night was so rough.  

this whole year has been rough.

and then when you get really thinking about it, life is really, really, really rough.

but there was Ziggy, running around in the grass, happy and healthy and here with me and i don’t know why i looked up, but i did, and i could still see the stars, and it means the same thing the sun coming up means.

i’m still here.

and it’s okay to be scared.

it’s okay to be angry and disappointed and frustrated and sad.  

but being any of these things, or all of them at once, so much your whole body feels sick, doesn’t mean it’s over.  

i’m still here, and my voice still works even when it shakes, and my hands still work even when they shake, and my heart still works even when it’s aching and exhausted and shaking so hard it can’t tell its own beats from my brain stem.  

nothing is over.

i haven’t had an ounce of faith in the man since before i had a single idea what the man was.  i haven’t stood up for the pledge of allegiance or the national anthem in over fifteen years.  George W scared me. angered me. disappointed me and saddened me and frustrated me.  so has Obama.  so does Donald Trump and so does Hillary Clinton and so does every person behind all of them pulling their strings and every person under them scrambling for a bigger piece of anything they can get their hands on.  this whole fucking world scares me.  

and that is no different than it was yesterday.

this world world is crawling with a lack of empathy and education and love.

but it’s also a glowing home to me and to you and to hope and to countless hands and voices and hearts that still work.  that still carry light and love, and it’s okay to feel how you feel. a heart that hurts is a heart that works.

we’re still here.

the sun is still shining.

and when i close my eyes, i can still see the stars.

@katsavagepoetry and @jenR501 are hosting awesome writing...

@katsavagepoetry and @jenR501 are hosting awesome writing prompts for the entire month of November.