Eskimo Slobber and Butterfly Whispers

I forgot that these posts don't have to be made up entirely of symbolism. Though fun to write, and possibly entertaining to read, it's not necessary to always write in hopes that I can relate a certain topic to a grandfather clock or the rusting hubcap on an abandoned '71 Chevelle. Too many new things are happening and my brain doesn't work fast enough to make alternate meanings for these things. So instead I'll just lay it out straight. Yo, I am fucking happy. There are so many premium people in my life who wouldn't even think about judging me (unless in a court setting. heeeyy!) and that is so great. I've always been myself but I used to have to put on a mask, if only to cover part of me. I had to censor what I would say in fear of being too weird instead of just weird enough. With the wonderful people I've met and become very close to this past year, I have absolutely nothing to worry about. Which brings me to the next awesome point. I'm a girlfriend. Not like "hey gurlfrand..look atch you gurlfrand." Eddy is golden. The bees knees. He reads this, right? You read this, right? I think it is so cool that he/you exists. I'm not trying to reveal everything that happens in our courtship (HA!) because it really ain't nobody bih'ness but ours. But for serious, apple is premium juice and Eddy is a premium guy. New Years Eve, Kwanzaa and the blue moon combined could not even come close to comparing to our night. You just texted me telling me to listen to a certain song. That's exactly what I want you to do. Not force me to do things, of course. But suggest things like listening to a song that I'll appreciate because I know that it will make me a better person. Thanks, bro. Anyway, I'm not bitter anymore about certain things because now I'm actually experiencing it. And even though I'm totally still conscious about many things relating to my self, I'm gonna try my gosh durndest to let my insecurities go. I'm cool. Eddy's the shit. So what's not to be completely 100% comfortable about. You kiss my lips with your lips, you kiss my cheek with your eyelashes. Yo, I am fucking happy.

Metafive

She ran swift with particular steps being careful as to not splatter mud onto her fresh whites. The cold November rain acted as a sheet, suffocating her lungs every time she inhaled. "Breathe deeper," the young woman told herself each time the faucet in the sky would open up. She had wished that which ever God controlled such things would cut her some slack and turn the hot water on for a few minutes, that way she could relax and wash away the chill. Little did she know the Plumbing God was away on vacation and the hot water heater was broken. All she could do was run, swiftly. Without messing up her shoes cause they were her last pair of whites and they kind of go good with a lot of outfits. So she ran. For three weeks. Just as the icy sheet began to form a noose around the young woman's neck that began spiraling up around her face, she was able to see a sliver of light coming from a new house off the side of the road. Overjoyed to find cover, the young woman approached the home with caution, nervous as to what might be inside. Pushing open the door, the young woman was greeted with everything familiar, starting with two tall Starbucks beverages sitting on the coffee table. One Chai Tea Latte and one seasonal Peppermint Mocha. The tiny quirks and accents of the open room seemed to set it apart from any other house she'd ever been in before. A tiny replica of a Rolls-Royce sat on a shelf next to a ripped first edition of On the Road. Although nobody else appeared to be in the house, the young woman felt like someone was sharing the space with her. She was comfortable.

Still shivering from the heavy rain, the young woman walked over to the ready fireplace, lit a match and let the chill fade away. As the orange glow lit up the entire downstairs, the young woman stripped out of her layers and settled down on the fringed rug that welcomed the heat. Stretched out on the plush carpet, she let her fingers run through the tassels at the edge until both her hands and the fringe became tangled. Holding hands with the rug, she felt sheltered.

At five in the morning, the young woman woke from her temporary slumber, fingers still knotted in the hands of the carpet. She followed the obvious luminescence from the window to the back porch. The hard rain had disappeared hours before taking the burden with it. All the young woman saw when she stepped into the air was her breath fogging up her vision and a dizzy moon. With the same hand that held onto the carpet so tight, the young woman kissed the giddy night. All was right.