Re: Sunday -- (E-Mail)

I recall that what I did was to take that ever-present sense of loneliness - the one that continually grew if I focused on it - and determined its inverse, and turned it into that. Instead of being lonely because I was by myself, I saw my unallocated love pour out onto everything that shares my existence. It's wonderful, and I still have to remember to be this rather than return to the gloom that has been my familiar abode over the last decade and more - a depression that became a safe place to be, something that I was loathe to relinquish - and continue to fend off.

This is a quote from a typewriter journal entry that I found and posted it to my blog, journal year unknown:
"I think this is harder to describe because, at least as much as it is a new feeling (or mood or mindset; it is the state of my mind and soul), it is the tangible void of something old and familiar, the absence of something that had a stranglehold on me and constricted tightly around the organ in me that feels happiness and contentment."

Bitter. Sweet.

The only time that the hurt swells is when I get caught up by the detachment that used to serve as my defense; it allows me to create a moment, flawlessly woven, from my memory of you, by my longing for you: I'm pouring a glass of orange juice and, suddenly, I feel you behind me; I feel your presence in the tingling along the entire length of my spine, and know that, if I turn, I will see you there.

I do turn around, though, and I see what I knew was there before those wonderful seconds that convinced me that I would see you - air, space, and the kitchen floor.