MOOP!

So, it's not a line that will make sense to very many of you, as there is not so much overlap between my friends list and hers, but I was charmed last night when I found myself saying "I may have to write up the last hour of my life simply because it had so much ridiculous in it that I feel like Racheline".

(And of course, there is enough of an age gap between us that her ridiculous can echo memories in a manner that I simply do not yet have the experience to do, but the idea of how sometimes all the world aligns to be so strange and yet somehow entirely correct is a concept that I find very dear.)

And so that's how the bunny scampering away from me on the sidewalk last night (towards where I was going, foolish thing, meaning I kept scaring it further away) came to shift my mood ever so subtle that last click it needed --there is a specter of suburbia in my little patch of city home, and that's okay, and I can be happy at life again. It was just so strange and wrong and beautiful to have a rabbit here --this is not Columbia, bunny, what are you doing in the city?-- that it put a smile on my face as I dragged myself up the stairs and into the safety of a room that feels like home.

The stories of what else happened before are much the personal sort, like the fact that sometimes I do need to cry where no one else can find me, because sometimes I provide my own comfort and strength. I am a girl who cries often, and being well-practised at such a sport makes it easier to 'fix' myself, though I wouldn't always say my fractured mind is broken. And there are things that cannot be changed and are nobody's fault, and just because there is not a clear evil to blame, does not mean that it does not hurt with an intensity that makes it hard to think and impossible to talk.

(And there are things which are, so clearly, somebody's fault, but the matter of intent makes it difficult to blame them. Perhaps I give too much power over myself to the people who don't need it, but I've always been that way, as I try to be better and better and perfect. It has never been as crucial to me to please myself as it has been to please all the rest of the world.)

So my night was strange, but it followed familiar patterns, and I was given the chance to walk alone in the dark, and listen to music pushed very loud. Dar is right, you know --as long as she's got noise, she's fine-- and despite being so aurally inept, I find that I can drown myself in volume, as a way to save me from myself. And while the patterns and thoughts may be familiar, the world is far too vast for that, and so I find bunnies four hundred miles from where I saw them last and laugh.

My life is sometimes ridiculous in how it plays out. I'm very grateful for that indeed.

~Sor
MOOP!