Today is a good day. I know it is.
Today stands for something. This means something to which I understand if the meaning is not the same to you as it is for me. But regardless of what this day means to you or to anyone else, still, I know that today is a good day.

It has to be.

Fear. . .
I think that this is a good topic to discuss before I close this journal and move on to the next.

Fear.

I know that fear is an excellent motivator. Fear can make us run. Fear can make move or hide or, at some point, fear can drive us to the understanding that no matter what, I never want to be afraid again.
I never want to give in. I never want to be used or humiliated.
I never want to feel weak or that vulnerable again and I never want to be that susceptible to anyone or anything.

Are you ready for a little dose of honesty?
I am sending this out with hopes to open the lines of communication or, better yet, I am offering this as a means to humanize the fact that, yes, it’s okay to not be okay. Above all things, I want to normalize the fact that sometimes, we fall apart.

So, as a means to offer this in a more humble and vulnerable tone, please understand that I expose the following knowing that this puts me in a humble light. But this also makes me human.
And to err is human. And so is to freak out, or “lose your shit!” so they say.
It’s a normal thing.

Nothing changes if nothing changes.
Right?

I know I go back to Newton when I think about how he said an item in motion remains in motion and an item at rest, remains at rest, unless altered by an outside source. While I know that I paraphrase, only slightly, I think about life and the way things are.
Are we an item? Perhaps.
Are we in motion or at rest?
I suppose this depends.

I assume that no matter what I say or regardless of what I might try to explain, or no matter how hard I try to express my feelings or to convey them to you in the simplest way possible, and regardless of how I might feel remorse or if I am sad or mournful, or if I am regretful, or if I am thankful, if I am happy and overjoyed or confused and off put by the way I see my life—the bottom line is I don’t know what the color blue looks like to you. I don’t know what the different version of colors look like from your eyes. I don’t know what heat feels like on your skin and I cannot begin to know how your senses differentiate between something pleasing or pleasurable, to something that is unsightly or pained and uncomfortable.

I agree that this is not intended for everyone. I don’t believe the following subject is something that most people will know about, nor should anyone have to know about this.
However, in the sad desperation of hardship, or in the course of imprisonment, and whether this jail is figurative, external or self-induced, or in the interest of darkness and after the fallouts or the aftermath of battle, or the drunken bouts of shame, or as a result of drug-induced sickness, or an otherwise circumstance, I think of the times when life was at its worst.

I think of when my back was against the wall or on the floor and the only way up was too far or too high for me to climb. I think of my own madness and the drooling lunacies of emotional downfalls or mental health catastrophes.
I think of the self-destructive moments, sad and terrible.

I think about the times when some of my old friends made me laugh. And yes, I say this again and again, and I’ll say this now, repeatedly, until my last breath or until the hour of my death (amen).
There are no friends like old friends.
There are no memories like the memories that shape our youth or the ones that remind us of the days when it was fine and safe to be wild or crazy.
I like to be crazy once in a while.
Don’t you?

And here’s another good “when” question . . .
When is enough, enough?
I ask this, as in how long do we need to keep this going?

How long do we need to be angry before we realize that all we do is run in circles and keep the pain alive? Why do we have to keep the feuds going?
How does this help us?

Why do we have to waste time and energy? If this is true, and if we are allowing ourselves to waste time and energy, then why do we keep the feuds alive? If it is us who keep them fights alive, then when is our turn to realize that our life will be better spent if we let go of the past so we can pay attention to a better future?

I like it when there’s silence. I like the moments with no sound except for the sound of your breath or the assumption of your heartbeat, which is pounding in my dreams, or thumping, like a source of something, which is everything, but unstoppable.
I like the quietness of nighttime and the after-midnight sessions when my eyes open and there you are—next to me.
I like the feeling of you and the smell of your skin.