myths

My favorite song tonight. . .

I am debating. . .

I'm not sure what to write.

If Heaven and Hell decide
that they're both satisfied
illuminate the "No"s on their vacancy signs
("I Will Follow You into the Dark" DCFC)

There are a dozen really good posts swimming around my head right now. I just don't know where to start. Perhaps with the image of a back. . . I've become minorly obsessed with backs lately. The not-quite rectangle, the flat expanse, the rise of shoulder blades where if you ever had wings, that's where they'd connect. It's not a dangerous obsession. I'm not going around checking out people's backs; I'm just suddenly aware of their geography. Except I've been working on a poem that compares the back to the sky. The night sky with stars. And the myths inherent in them.

I'm too scared to let my guard down. Because if you let your guard down, you can get hurt. It's like a song on repeat in my head. Someone, who I hope won't mind if I refer to him as a good friend, pointed out that I have the habit of offering a piece of personal information and then retreating, changing the subject, backing off, etc. (My words not his). He said it was endearing, but I have a feeling endearing meant maddening. But I'm reaching the point where I need to let my guard down or it's going to suffocate me. And I think I'm starting to with the aforementioned friend, but I worry too much, analyze too much, and then panic and shut down.

I'm sorry if reading this blog feels as if you are reading a catalogue of neuroses. (That's another problem. I apologize too much.) I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. For everything. For nothing. For being 22 and acting older. For being 22 and acting younger. For not knowing what color my hair is. For caring what color my hair is. For thinking about guys. For not thinking about guys. For being me. For not being me. For not knowing who "me" is. For knowing who only a part of "me" is and thinking that if you met her, you'd never speak to me again. For only letting you know a facade. For not having a good facade. For. . . For. . . For. . .