confessions with a possible concussion

confession: while running this morning i was mentally conversing with my soul friend about passion and illusion and which feelings are real and how much deeper i want to feel and how much farther i can push out the edges of what is healthy, wise, and possible. because soul friend is somewhere far away today i thought i’d text his best friend and see if he could meet me for lunch because his best friend is local and a more stable version of him, at least in my narrative. i was texting soul friend’s best friend while running on the trail, looking down at my phone, not seeing the tree branch above my sight line that bonked my head. i didn’t send that text. i rubbed the knot immediately forming on my head. i put my phone in my back pocket. i kept running. i waited for enlightenment to flash in the midst of what might have been a mild concussion and then remembered that newton discovered gravity (not enlightenment) when an apple hit him on the head and buddha was starving but unharmed by tree-related objects when he attained enlightenment.

confession: all i really want is to hike trails all over the world and read great books and write as well as i can and dance and sing and take naps every single day.

confession: i am continually humbled by the privilege of people letting me close enough to love them well.

confession: i have sisters to visit in houston and stephenville, not blood-related, sisters that transcend blood. i have roadtrips to make in the next few months in order to hug and listen and laugh and love with those sisters that hold my heart.

confession: shame will fuck you up. by that i mean, shame fucks me up.

confession: i’ve been telling myself lies this week, lies about who i am and what i want and what i’m afraid of. i’m trying to clean up the messes of my own making inside my mind.

confession: last week he introduced me to my new favorite restaurant, he invited me to taste the goat soup he garnished with turnips and cilantro, and i fell more platonically in love with him for the next two hours.

confession: i don’t make my bed in the morning but i admire people who make theirs.


About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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