to think i thought of killing you
The kids that drive me up every wall in their apartment have been filling a hole in my heart.
I've felt off these days. I've felt empty, and have been feeding myself distractions so that I don't have to listen to the thoughts running through my head.
I feel I haven't been honest enough in my words, in my writing and with my conversations with other people.
I've had such a firm grasp on myself for so long, and now I'm holding everything I am very loosely. I'm not sure what I want. I'm not sure I know what's best for myself. I feel myself choking on my words and shaking my head at some of my actions. I crave freedom, but at times my body is a prison.
And then there's the kids.
They are always a challenge, but I find myself everytime I can make things work. I see myself become nurturing, kind, flexible, and know there's something to me.
Today I stood in a park, in the pouring rain, clutching my purse and the cookie bag for an hour as the kids ran around. For once, I didn't feel sorry myself. I was happy that they were enjoying themselves. I was elated that he was playing with her when he screamed "But I will play alone!!!" Before leaving the apartment.
He has been reaching for my hand a lot, playing with my fingers as I read him books, and smiling at me with adoration.
We've started dancing a lot in the kitchen, and I find myself doing the Macarena when I should be making them finish dinner.
In moments like these feel myself crawling back into my skin.
My pen is scribbling through my journal again.
My thoughts are becoming fluid.
And I think, just maybe, that I'm starting to find my mind again.