I'm seeing that my love is a massive infinite individual. Like maybe my thing is not writing after all, writing is the blue collar version of me, my real version is recognizing love, feeling love, giving love, and taking love.
I see it with my mom, I see it with that guy, I see it with my kids, I see it with the one friend at a time I have occasionally. I am much bigger and much less able to control or understand myself and my immense capacity to love. I am huge that way. Huge and airy like the world's biggest soap bubble. I can pop at any minute but so far no way man. I am way too strong to pop.
I have been having trouble because I have wanted to be what I needed to be and haven't been sure how to do it. Everyone else needs something so I'm filling all those roles but there is something else there is this ME in there.
I spend so much time running because it is much bigger than I have the envelope for. I cannot contain it all. I have tried to be Tee ball mom and Van mom and snack mom and beach mom and dog mom and rational mom.
Now I'm dementia mom, and damn I am actually good at that too. I am kindergarten mom. I have this immensity.
My mom and I are now this other glob of thing, this half person this mongoloid of two. All mixed up. We were always that. She's a broken typewriter and I'm all her keys. I understand her, and I still love her even though she can't love me like she used to. I fill in all the blanks with my huge fucking heart that will not stop. I think I'm scared of myself. I don't want to hurt anybody of course.
But I have needed to feel things so badly.
I don't understand how to love things in a traditional way because love doesn't come at me in a traditional way. Or I reject it so it can't hurt me so I can't be like everyone else doing the same old things but maybe great painters felt this agony, their art blended with life and none of it was good it was just glaring because the art takes on its own life and the artist is all banged up in there and makes a huge mess but this is glory (which I just started watching on tv)
Loving greatly is loving. B is not mad at me for not loving him. He's wanting what we all want, which is the love we deserve to be there and easy to access (hollywood). I hate love because love makes you vulnerable. So I can only love in compartments. I'm afraid I'd be blown apart. Like I was on Halloween all those years ago when I felt like all my love was safe in a family and contained and now I realize it was just me all along. Me seen by b
