27.7, or Giraffes

27.7

Through the dirty pane of glass
I see the lingering snow —
an ever shrinking mass of white.
It’s April and I wonder how much
longer I will be alone.
My head has hurt for a week now
and I can barely stay calm in a job
that seems to have become a prison.

I am calm. I am resolved.
The love is enough; the love
from my family of new friends
(fellow refugees, struggling to
find themselves)
They soothe me and I feel
less angry about failure.

The snow will stick
for a few more weeks.
The grass is displacing patches
here and there — this guest
is no longer welcome.

I am standing here
at my kitchen door,
ready to take to the air;
ready to break free and
start this next phase.
I inhale deeply,
but I do not move.

4.11.2007

Thoughts to people I’ve had on my mind lately. I don’t expect these people to read this, but I wanted my thoughts out there. I also don’t want anyone to feel left out. I have a lot of people in my life and a lot of love to give. Don’t take it personally if I didn’t mention you.

David: You know what I think about you and how I wish you could be content. I am so pained by the hurt you go through, as if I have somehow become an extension of you — an additional limb you don’t really want to deal with. I don’t mean to care so strongly, but I’m not sure I can reverse and love you less. You are a good person who deserves all the things you want, even if you sometimes want them too much. I want to stare into your face for hours. It soothes me and is familiar; you make me feel at home.

Bradley: You’ve endured such pain. I am sorry you’ve had to go through such a terrible time. You are a great person and I know that wherever your life takes you, good things are possible. I hope you realize the blessings in your life and cherish them.

Heather: You put up with too much from me (you put up with too much from everybody). I appreciate your concern about me and know that you really do care. That means a lot. I have tried to distance myself from you a little lately and I am sorry if it has seemed like rejection. It isn’t. I still care about you as much as always, but feel like we needed a bit of a break. I don’t think that anymore. I have been so lucky to have you as a friend.

Grant: I am worried that we have failed to connect recently. I have really tried to open up to you as a friend, but held back a little. I find it difficult to relate to men who aren’t gay, which is horrible of me. I feel like I am disappointing you at work and I hate it. Working for you is the only reason I am still at the store. I want to work for/with you, not only because you are a great guy to be around, but also because you know how to manage a store.

Jacci: You have so much to give. I wish I could just accept it and allow you into my life more. I don’t know if I am scared of something or what, but I just can’t seem to let my guard down around you. I am trying.

Mom: I feel like my journey has caused unnecessary stress for you. I know you don’t understand why I needed to be in Alaska — I don’t really either, but the last thing I ever wanted was to be further away from you. You are one of my closest friends and I wish I could be more open with you. I also worry about you a great deal. I wish I could see you every single day.

People I miss (in no particular order): Jess C, Jess F, Justin, Becky, Meghan, Jill, Jeff, Marla, Serenity, The Kim, Dad, Lori, Ed, Sharon, Stan, G, Annie, Laurisa, Samantha, Kendra, Mimi, Valeri, JoBeth, Ray, Opie, Geri, Jerry, Travis, Conner, Tim, Kathy, Mary C, Mary, Ann, Mom, JD, Jason, Jennie, Elisabeth, Emily, Matt A, Ken, Shauna, Gordon, KC, John H, James, Debbie, Molly, Avery, May, Riley, Jason M, Brent, Bryce, Cara, Paul, Patrick, David E, David M

I know that frustration will only cause me more problems and I can’t live with it. I have to move on and become who I am right now. Life is far too short to accept pain. Having almost literally counted my blessings, it seems that I must realize how lucky I am. And I do know that. I hope all of this means I am moving forward.