These past months, I've just felt like every person I encountered was a living, breathing "give me" machine. No one wanted to be kind for the sake of being kind, everyone needed more than a thank you. No one listens for the sake of me, it's always for the sake of you. When did we stop putting each other first? When did we decide that "I" was more important than "you"? I go through months like this one and I know the only way I will make it through is if I take it one day at a time. I must have learned that in kindergarten, or maybe from an old friend I used to climb crabapple trees with. Because, damn, sometimes I am tired. Sometimes I remember childhood or the summer spent sailing in the San Juan islands or sophomore year and break-ups and miscarriages and redwood trees and light summer nights and soft winter days spent in bed and summer fig-colored bruises and people dying and I wonder how it can go on like this forever, if it's just like this in my head. Sometimes I wonder at the slow kiss of the sun and the horizon and I want to see the other side of it all. I want to see only the easy. But sometimes a day can be a blooming surprise. A day can leave you as happy as you felt when you woke up that morning-- more tender, less jaded. Some days don't have to wear and tear on you. Those days haven't happened in a long time. I wonder how much more of this I can take before I want to keep my love-crumb eyes shut tight forever.
