dish cloth

staring across the city today, sat in a different place to write. the air is warm and sweet and my eyes are tacky with sleep. I’m on a nice terrace with a great view and I am remembering that all of my afflictions are mental. I used to be in physical danger, my body and stature still carries that feeling, a stone around my neck. now I am safe and my body hasn’t caught up. I find it hard to believe in safety, years went by and I never felt that feeling of comfort. my anxieties grip my brain and wring it out like a used dish cloth. the ground rattles beneath me as the tram slips under where I sit. I am free and I am safe. the world as a whole never felt welcoming, like everyone was in on a sick joke that I’d never heard of and that I was breaking every rule they’d made and kept from me. now my eyes turn in the overcast light and I know I am in the clear. that I don’t have to worry about what is next, that the wind will call and gracefully dance through me and I will be okay. there is always another option, no matter what is going on. my partner believes this too, he talks about an Argentinian goat farm and that, if all else fails, you can just go there. the vast experiences of the world are what make us all so unique, so many hats to try on and so many things to make your opinions on. I am in the best position I have ever been in – the sun just started shining behind my head and I can see everything that soaks it up. I can watch the little black spider next to me on the bench and breathe. I am so lucky, everything works out for me. I hope it does for you too.