A mutuality of meetings. Belonging. Being completely inside an experience— the need for making plans ceases. The moment casts shades of light, creating forms of perception, caught with attention. I’m learning love exists in every shape I see.
In this moment, I don’t remember any of the symptoms that led me to the doctors in the first place. I remember dreading the doctor’s appointments. I remember the dark rooms with long slabs of what looked like butcher paper that I was supposed to pee on. I remember the florescent lighting in the tiny bathrooms, the blue and white tiled floors where I would give urine samples.
Ok, Drea… now you must write. In spite of all the things you try to do right—write. Let unworthiness weep virtue and value it true, if that’s how it rings for you. Write until your rights right wrongs so wrong it feels right. Write run-ons. Let them run on and on, meandering whims wrestling with the words that don't sound right.