Looking out the window I notice that the pollen seems to be covering everything, almost like a lady who gets a little heavy handed with her face powder, and slings it everywhere with the wind. This pollen doesn't appear to have a care in the world, it just wants to settle somewhere, anywhere, and it matches this ick that has been creeping into my head for the past few days, and today, well I am just covered in it.
Although I am grateful to be standing here, watching the light scatter across the table and shine on my face, I don't feel excited to be out of that dirt today. Rather, I feel icky, almost dreary on the inside, and I can't seem to put my finger on the why which is driving me a little nuts. Optimism has always come easily to me, at least it did way back when, but embracing it is somewhat of a struggle these days. Maybe that is normal, I guess, at least for what I have been through, but I hate this feeling. I hate the memories that are bound to it and all the emptiness in between.
Arly has tried her best to cheer me up today, to no avail. I can't say I have humored her efforts either, but I appreciate them. She sat me down a bit a ago and told me that she sees it like this: I can choose to let the past control the present, or I can cut the strings that ties it to me and thread some new ones. I at least told her I would give that some thought and to be perfectly honest, I know she is right.
I just wish I could go to bed not dreading the thoughts that run through my head in the silence, of Angel Face, of my friends, or of the horrible images that haunt me. They seem to be hanging around into the morning hours, clouding my mood and lenses for the day, and that I hate. I wish I had Angel Face to cuddle up with, listen to her sing me to sleep, and see that smile on her face every morning. That smile seemed to be the world's best antidote for this ick, and I miss it.
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