This lostness is so much a part of me. I never have it together. I never know what to do or what I'm doing.
Looking at the stars, I wonder what my life is compared to those lights in the sky. I wonder if I could be a light for someone else.
How do we make it from one moment to the next? I feel the miracle of each day.
After loss, you must be creative. You must create a hybrid life that integrates the living and the dead.
I don't want to be a body. I want to be a cloud or a river. I want to be beauty.
The pain didn't make me strong. It made me sensitive, reclusive, afraid, heartbroken. It took from me. It gave nothing. What I have is what I found in the ruins of myself.
I read Clarice Lispector's The Hour of the Star, about a poor girl who can't cope with life. She has that not-thereness of Barbara Loden's Wanda. Of course, I understand it all.
Only the moon sees me.