Beans of Solitude

Ever since I got my space back, I've been... oh, how do I say it? Reveling. Being amazed by my surroundings and my Self and how far I've come. The thing I didn't have before--the feeling that people lose after being comfortable for so long--was the certainty that I was still myself under all that mess I'd made. It's probably what kept me there for so long, standing on some precipice, staring longingly into the unknown I've loved for centuries. You know, some bullshit like that.

I wasn't sure she still existed. I thought maybe I'd killed her--rolled over her in my sleep, or something equally unceremonious. And the me that I once respected, the girl who could survive this sort of trauma, was gone for good. And whatever was left, well she'd never survive.

There was a brief moment, of course, where I fell apart. I lost it. I fell into an abysmal mania and wondered whether or not I'd done the right thing. I imagined this cliff I'd been coming to for a while now, and I'd jumped over a gap to another ledge, equally unstable. I was afraid and in a dark place. The cool thing about my tendencies though, something that others have mistaken for insincerity in the past, is that I tend to go through dark periods really fucking fast. I put my head down, close my eyes, and run like hell to the other side.

The second I hit the bottom and started running with my head down, though, was the second I knew I was still alive. Of course it hurts, just as bad as everyone else does. It wasn't fun. But to know that the me I know so well was still there, and ready to power me through anything, was enough to believe I can deal with whatever is heading my way.

Regardless of what ledge I landed on, or if I even landed anywhere, the jump was correct. That's an absolute. I can't look back.

And, as a separate thought pertaining to the same thing: I read this again and realize it sounds very self-centered. It is, in a sense, but that's avoiding an entire other side to this.

I believe in certain souls helping others along and certain intervals in time--when something is supposed to happen, or needs to happen--and I owe them all everything in this situation. A great friend of mine told me in December of last year to jump in a car with him, because I "needed to be reminded that I could." He told me that I originally put those seeds in him, years ago, and that he was returning the favor. I went ahead and jumped in the car, regardless of impending rent that I didn't have. He started it.

My neighbor popped her head in my door once in March to say hello, and said "Aw, it looks so cozy in here. Our places are so cozy. They make it hard to leave, or grow." Then she left.

A friend came into town a few weeks ago. He started a fire that burned most of the things that needed to burn.

I didn't get here alone. Though I'd like to think so sometimes, I've never gotten anywhere alone. There's a lot more to be said about that, but I'll stop. Some quarks and strings and geists do not like to be discovered, or talked about. In a sense, they're the elves that clean house while we sleep, that your mother always wished she had.

Little bursts of energy, pushing people ever so slightly to say and do things to encourage others. Instead of quarks or strings or geists, they should be called beans. That's my big idea.