“you change like sugar cane” says my northern lad…

I slept alone a lot this week.

There are many nights when I go to bed with so many things and people beside me, upon me, inside me- filling me up and scouring me clean or rubbing their dirt into me- but this week, in silence, most every night, my mind was just an echoing sound, quiet and white like a fan, and it was good.

I slept well and deeply, I cried only as I wished to and not for long- only to release what came to my pillow with me- anger and frustration- trying to rectify wonder and awe with pain and saddness.  I was able to cast them all out of bed with me.  Perhaps it is the newness and cleanness in the air.  Perhaps because I have too many social occassions to fill my calendar and don’t need to rely on who is home to keep me company.  Perhaps I am just tired of aching for things I don’t have control over and being angry with myself over perfectly rational feelings.

Sometimes I feel like I lost my best friend.  Then I remember.  I did. I have. and history repeats itself over and over again.  That used to knaw on me, keep me up at night- tack itself right on to any other emotion and make it ten times worse but now- now- I barely feel it.  I’m worth more.  I am the best friend a best friend could ever need and if those best friends out there cannot hack it they can move on- because I am not changing the way I love a friend to suit their substandard desires.  I won’t do it.  I’m going to love you anyway.

And I sleep better now.

And sometimes I forget to miss you.

And sometimes I remember not to miss you.

Ever Virgin.