ello, jello

It’s been a while since I’ve felt the urge to come here

Things have leveled out, I guess

I no longer live with that one human. The one I dreamt of hitting with my right hook. I live alone and while it’s been an adjustment, it’s actually been quite nice. I slept for 10 hours straight last night and woke up refreshed. I still have periods where my brain is scared, but I know how to handle them better. My neighborhood isn’t the safest but I’m close to everything that’s important to me and my neighbors are awesome. No coughing fits in the middle of the night, no yelling or screaming at random hours. Life is pretty good here.

I don’t have a job and so I look for other ways to fill my time. I’ll probably be at USPS soon so that’ll probably change. I’ve been knitting and taking care of my plants and cooking and taking care of my skin and going to the gym and listening to too much true crime and stretching and baking and life has slowed down for me a lot. I’m going into my 4th month at my apartment and things feel settled. I still have little projects but all of the big things have been figured out. I’m not living out of any boxes anymore. The only box I have is the one with the cactus in it that I’m afraid to look at because I’m not sure it’s still alive. The last time I touched it it left five or six of its spines deep in my fingers and I was fishing bits of them out for several days afterwards. I made a 15-bean soup today that I’ve been meaning to for a while. Smoked turkey leg, lots of Tony’s Creole, chopped kale, the works. I’ll be chipping away at it for a long time.

The biggest change though… is her. We were friends first. I think. She made the cranberry tart, and then passed me the knife. It’s like she was saying I’ll set it all up for you… but whether or not you choose to indulge is up to you. And I took my first bite in July. There have been stressful moments, learning moments, tender moments, and all of it has been super… super… slow. She’s so kind and wicked smart and knows what she likes and what she doesn’t and most importantly, she challenges me. She’s so good at cooking and we went dancing Friday night and she looked GOOD. She liked my friends and she likes me and I feel so lucky and I’m also so scared because that Friday I realized I really, really like her back. My body remembers the panic. My body remembers the despair. My body is braced, but I remind it that it doesn’t have to be that way. This girl is good. This girl isn’t sick like the others. She’s different. We will be different. I don’t have to be so scared.

What we have is so different. And it’s constantly changing. At the beginning, I thought that we wouldn’t have that extra element of desire, and I was okay with that. I feared that hunger in me. But the last time she was over, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I wanted to kiss her cheeks, to crawl into the space right next to her on my couch. I want to hug her from behind when she’s making tea for both of us, I want to hold her hand. I want to lean my head on her shoulder when we’re watching a movie together. I want to poke her with my foot, I want to annoy her. I want to fall asleep next to her while she works on her thesis. I want to throw her over my shoulder.

I’ve been so afraid, but my body is learning that she is safe. She isn’t going to hurt me. I want to touch her. I want to cut a bigger slice of the cranberry pie… and savor it.