I love this journal so much I didn't even want to break the binding. It's lovely, and I wanted to begin it with something lovely, but those kinds of words are a little for me to come by these days.
I'm at Logan Park, it's a beautiful evening; it was a beautiful day. It didn't even feel like it. Hence I took to my bike, journal in tow. I wanted to go somewhere beautiful, somewhere that didn't make me hate life...if only for a minute. It didn't feel like a beautiful day.
I spend all day inside, at the wrong temperature, just looking at a taunting outdoors. I think about what I'll do when I get off work, but inevitably I'm too beat to chase the adventure my heart craves and then invents.
I'm listening, now, to the dwindling remnant sounds of children in the park at twilight. a couple walking their dog pass me a second time. It's a beautiful evening, though the breeze has my every hair on end and my body on the verge of shivers. I welcome it. It's been a hot, humid summer, though not even one of our worst.
And though it's dark out, I wish someone would come and talk with me. Lately, I've had the longing for the spark of new relationship. A chance to meet someone new, and investigate them. Try them on; feel them out. If I like it, lay ground rules: no taking advantage of me, no lying, no walking away, no secrets, no assumptions or presumptions, no holding back - tears or laughter -, no letting go when it's convenient. Be present, be invested.
Instead, I sit, on the bench, looking out over an ever-darkening field, the clouds in the distance occasionally shimmering, alone. Only thinking that if I met someone who'd let me set the rules, and also hold me to them...it would be perfect. If only there were such a thing, as someone I could trust; someone who would treat me like I deserve, and love me, that would be perfect. Ideal. Ideal.
The wind washes over me, playing with the whispies in my hair. This is the closest I think I ever feel to love. That's why I come here and sit, alone. I can pretend that even though I don't speak, the wind hears my thoughts and cherishes these musings. I can come and feel like beauty loves me back. Its touches, looks, and hushes tell me. And we're together, without care.
Beauty loves me back.
