Words

A day spent fighting mind battles. My own. You lust after what you can see. Or after what you have recently seen. Upheaval. But not good, and for no good reason. I have come a long way, yet always those long ghost-like, spidery fingers grip my throat...the worst is when you know better, and because you do, you have to take responsibility (all adult-like).
I worked for a while in the garden. Late afternoon. It did me some good. On two levels I weeded...the hardest to rip out were my negative thoughts. My erratic last week and a half has seen me unbalanced, mentally too.
Over supper I typed up a story on Kaapsehoop's so-called wild horses. I had handwritten notes from over a year ago. To find them I rummaged through notebooks I'd forgotten I had. Butterflies in my gut. Another time, another place...but all of those words describing my deep unhappiness at the time. Also lots of, what I thought at the time was therapeutic, sex. Words describing the painful steps...that got me to where I am now.
Which is in bed, reading those notebooks, and feeling my heart punch my rib cage.

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