My curtainless window- 03.05.17

In the evenings I sit by my curtainless window watching white seagulls in the plum sky. I imagine that they are doves, because if they are then all is well.
I think about how labels are like labyrinths in which we lose ourselves trying to find the other person. I dream of going to Saint-Tropez, and then I remember the shores of Anse Chastenet, the mountains of Soufrière, I have come from paradise. I am so much a dreamer, that sleep is a dream within a dream.
I think about the goals I set myself, the life I want for myself, and the mean things she said. Sometimes I beat myself up about what I haven’t done or been.
Tonight, I am grateful for my friendships; having people who want the best for me right next to me. Who see glitter when I am covered in dust.
I often think of the writer I’d like to be; one who makes people believe in something beyond themselves, and in anything the world has never seen. For them to see love as an an ocean that hugs them and then leaves them wet and cold to be illuminated by the sun. Sometimes I am upset, and always I am asking, hoping, I guess it is the curse of my name. I have made myself another promise. I’m going to keep it a secret. You will know when it is done. I ask how to not lose myself inside people? And if I am a chrysalis, how can you expect me to fly? Sometimes I lose myself so deep in my ego, I need a flare to help me out.
If I am to have a daughter, I will tell her to never carve an identity for herself out of the things she’s done, never mind the men she has loved. I will tell my children that life does not get easier, it gets harder. The challenges get darker but you get better. When I am in love my fantasies carry me to São Paulo, Venice, Ubud. Through candlelit streets peppered with petals, strings of violins singing cadences of fantasy- but my lovers seldom come with. Why is it that men want you only when your arrow is drawn to the sky and not them?
Maybe my thoughts are ships masquerading as clouds, sailing through the sky seeking somewhere to anchor. I think of places where it rains red, where home is a carcass and I know that we can do better.
Maybe I am a dreamer. Maybe it’s in the name.

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