I.
My mother's birthday gift to me this year was a card written in Crayola marker of what I am. The knowingness that floats above my feet. A quiet look. The fact that I fall into fictional characters and forget to take a breath. Strong Knees. Don't back down. Melting heart- spilling down the sides for all to see.
I cried for all long time after that- that hollow vein overtaking a whole chest- for no one had told me that before and I have been having these reoccurring dreams that I blend into dull walls and no one hears or sees me and I'm gone before they even knew I left. The ants of an expansive, ever forming universe. Except I'm the only ant and Jupiter, Saturn, and Mars loom over me.
After I told her that, barely making out my thank you without a crack of lightning crawling out my throat, she told me To The Moon And Back. All the way up, into the universe.
II.
At night, when the loneliness sat to my right and played with my hair, I drank cheap champagne by myself like I was celebrating. I wanted to celebrate, but I didn't know of what, so I gulped it down until my insides were bubbles and hoped the meaning would come eventually.
Instead it lasted well into midnight, a scratchy record repeating the same sad songs over and over again. And, unlike the passing hours of fantasizing of a person (anyone really) entering my room, I decided to dance.
Was it in the spirit of gratitude? Or pity? Or was I moving my muscles as to call goodness in? Was it a way to shake off the heavy afternoon and all that encompassed it? I felt like I was becoming smaller and smaller until I couldn't even see my reflection and I thought to myself- why does it even matter? Why does any of it even matter? Are we falling towards the inevitable collision course dying things must submit to or was this something I created? I just wanted to fall apart and leave the pieces for someone else to pick up in the morning but instead I danced and danced like I never cared for any of it one bit.
III.
I fell asleep on my couch last night. Awoke and came into a kitchen bleeding with light- the setting sun capturing my family's faces in orange, peachy happiness. Strawberries laughing on lips. The feathers of feet- oh, how delicate we were.
I awoke, for real this time, and realized it was a dream. I was alone, the tv static the only light on an overcast evening. I missed sunset. My family was asleep, off to better realities. I got up, against the heavy weight solidifying in every bone, and gazed into the poor, fogged night sky like the Moon was suffocating and begging for me to reach up and hold it.
It was one of those nights where you wanted to cry but you couldn't- instead it balls up against the sides of your stomach, dropping down, down, down until you are one with the floorboards. I could only stare off, feel it's crushing weight, and empathize with the Moon.
To The Moon And Back.