yours {h.s.} | {b1.5}

JANUARY 26, 2020

January 26, 2020

New York Revelations:

1. Wicked is not as good the second time. Defying Gravity still makes me cry, but will not admit publicly. Publicly: maintain Dancing Through Life is favorite song. At least maintain the appearance of individuality and singular thought.

2. New York is cold in January.

3. Gracie's skin is soft and warm, even when she's cold. It's an odd sensation; slight tingling vibrations that shook me to the core when I welcomed her into my jacket. Or maybe that was just her incessant shivering. Shockingly: like the feeling of her near me."

4. Life is different with Gracie in it. Perhaps, if I were more actively sociable, I could feel this feeling more frequently, but now I find myself shying away from it. There's a sort of fear that I've come to associate with it—the thought of making what I have with Gracie any less special. She is constant and consistent, almost like the sun. I learned that it takes thousands of years for the light of stars to reach us. By the time we see them, they could be long dead. We just have to trust—or, maybe hope—that they're still alive and well. That's how things feel with Gracie. Things with her feel steady and truthful and they're everything that I never knew I needed. Yet, still, when I look at her I feel like I'm juggling a million things at once. Life feels like a balancing act and I'm not sure how much more I can take. I know things aren't precarious, but I treat them as such because she's let me in for not even a month and I'm already so attached. Too attached. Already, I can't bear the thought of her leaving me.

5. There are some feelings that exist beyond the limit and constraints of words; feelings that are so acute and minute—such a specific feeling and trope—that to describe them is antithetical to the feeling itself. To attempt to describe it would undercut and undermine the authenticity of the feeling and would remove any and all meaning. Previously, such thoughts were hypothetical and poorly proven. Tonight, proof.

Absentminded ramblings:

I asked her to stay tonight when I told her about my life in England; hardly a revelation. More like a curse. Knowledge is power, though, where is the power in knowing the trauma you've endured? It was painful and it sucked and I wanted to rip my heart out of my chest because I thought that, somehow, would be easier than admitting the realities of my life.

But the way that she looked at me never changed.

I've never noticed it before, but there is a sort of set to her jaw. Typically indicative of when someone has made up their mind, she wears it like a badge of honor. Consistently, her jaw is set. Almost as though she lives her life in the strict state of this conviction. Until tonight, I'd never noticed it and I find it admirable. It's a good look on her, I think. Not that I would ever tell her. If I tell her, she might subconsciously seek to remedy this aspect of her, and this is one thing that I hope never changes.

Regardless: I asked her to stay because I couldn't bear the thought of her leaving. Maybe I just didn't want to be alone. I never feel lonely when she's around. Study? (NTS: start studying for USMLE Step 3. Also, vegetarian recipe for enchiladas? Want to bake banana bread.) I asked her to stay, and she did. She nodded her head and looked at me with her jaw set and there was something soft in her eye. She was kind to me in that way that she isn't frequently. She's always kind, but there was something different—special—about it this time.

She climbed on the bed with all the certainty in the world and insisted that she didn't mind sharing with me. After tonight, she was too tired to pitch a fit about anything.

We both laid there for a while and I could feel her fall asleep right away. She breathes different and her hand twitches kind of weird. Almost like she is trying to write something. I had half a mind to give her the pen and just see if she would start scribbling away like I'm doing now. Only, I couldn't join her in sleep. The sun is almost rising and I've not closed my eyes once, my mind is racing. I'm only writing this by the light seeping in through the window. Her head is halfway on my chest and I'm balancing the journal on her arm that is slung over my waist. I'd never guess that she is the kind of person who likes to cuddle, especially since she started so far away from me. I'll never tell her this happened, I'll save her that potential embarrassment.

She's starting to stir and I know that I have to pretend that I'm asleep. Final note: if ever name pet, potential name: Buttercup.