Screw Fears Revolutions. Around and around and around, spinning all singing all dancing to the happy tune of a stay of execution. Yippee!

Insurrection. Unity. Live, breathe, speak.

First. I have you. I would like to make things good and better and fun and free and well again for me and you. Yes, you.

I would like to go walking where the trees are and wander elsewhere with you. Go to other places. Make the distance all go away. Me and you. You whose name I whispered once and would whisper again.

Second. I would like to learn how to knit. I will knit a new best friend. I had one once, it was wonderful. That story does not end happily. Do some stories sometimes end happily? I hope so. I always hope. It’s a thing that I do.

But still, happy memories. Yay!

We used to walk her dog and talk about the things. I miss Honeybee very much. But there was words and now there is distance and time and absence and no more words. So yes. Knitting. A new best friend and a happy ending.

Third. I would like to remember how to weave. I used to weave. We used to weave together. Every Friday night at our house it was happy party times. So many voices I hardly had to talk at all.

Just listen and be with and be happy. Party times. Sometimes a few, sometimes so many we could barely fit. Oh my goodness, the happy and the talking and the laughtering and the being with. That was wonderful too.

I would like to have happy fun times again, but this time be me. No more pretending to be. I would like that again.

But again, happy memories. Hooray!

Three will do. That’s the magic wish number.

 

Things to nail to the wall of gratefuls.

Number one. You!

Number too. I have been sober for over sixteen years. So long now that I forget that it is a thing. Too many other things. I forget to remember. I remember things I would rather not instead. But that’s a thing too.

But still, not drunk. Still free of hangovers and blackouts and whatnot. Imagine that, if you know me. Me, batshit crazy and suicidal and torn to pieces and broken and drunk too. It was not pretty. Nope.

Scars. But free.

Number another. No more lies making me sick. No more passing, no more pretending, no more faking, no more deceiving. That feels better. That feels well. Scary and challenging, but better and well.

Number more. Kittens! What more need be said. Little horrors. Little furies. Riotous defiant naughty happy girls being wicked and free.

So many kittens!

Number endless. So many things. Legs that walk. Eyes that see. Fingers which type endlessly. Words. Lungs that breathe. Heart that beats. Blood which flows on the inside. So much support and encouragement and friendship and companionship and love.

Oh my goodness, so much love. So many happy tears. Not just lonely pain tears anymore. Nope.

So much! So many things! I could count forever. I like to count.

Although.

I would like my voice back. I would like to speak only life. But I’m working on that. I would like to be one and only one and say only what I mean to say and remember afterwards.

I miss you. It hurts. I cry. I sigh.

But.

The light. Always but always towards the light. I can breathe underwater now, that makes it easier. That makes it better.

But one last resolution. I will not care if it does not make sense. The words and whatnot. This is me. This is mine. If it makes no sense I will not worry or try to force sense. Common or otherwise.

I will be beautiful in my batshit crazy. I will be wonderful in my nonsense.

I will spin poison into pretty thingies or ugly thingies.

I will be.

 

Whippoorwill xoxxo

So much love to you. Yes. You.

 

P.S. Even if you cannot talk to me. Even if you do not want me. Even if I hurt you so much you have to go away. I understand, or misunderstand, or understand nothing.

But still.

I love you.

You.

Oh yes! I forgot. Happy new year to one and all. I wish and hope good happy freedom and wonderful thingies for you.