the 21st

 i don't often feel appropriate speaking up. i would rather

sing.

but even that makes me feel like i should not use my

voice

a certain way.

i don't like being the center of attention. but i am confident about the things I've spent time thinking about. learning about. being conscious of.

a professor once described me to a friend as having the energy of a god, and (what a kind thing to say),

that stuck with me--

damn right--

but we are all divine.

we each create.

we each bring our stories into being.

sometimes i feel like i have prepared for this my whole life.

taken periods of solitude 

seriously.

not for granted.

learned how to be good alone.

not alone in the world.

just alone in my apartment. alone in a space where i sleep and make foods and take out the garbage. where i 

deal with spiders and broken toilets

and humidity and cat puke.

i learned that i could rely on myself. that i could love myself and show up for myself. and i knew no one could ever disappoint me again, because i would always be there for myself, holding, 

pulling back together the fragmented segments if my heart and my experiences,

learning some new strength. naming it. claiming victory. moving forward.

we are never really alone.

i have speculated that the heart's capacity to love is infinite, though

these bodies (vessels) are not.

so i keep trying

to love more. 

/nov 21, 2020/