9:35pm, and I feel like writing.
“If you asked me how I’m doing, I would say I’m doing just fine.
I would lie and say that you’re not on my mind.”
“Sometimes I wake up by the door, that heart you caught must be waiting for you.
Even now, when we’re already over, I can’t help myself from looking for you.”
“They say bad things happen for a reason
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
‘Cause she’s moved on while I’m still grieving
And when a heart breaks no it don’t breakeven even, no”
Some lyrics on my mind/heart/soul/whatever.
How was “my” day? Well, how was your day? How was the day? Your day, how was?
If by any chance, I read this next Monday, I want you to know that life goes on.
I guess the biggest miracle that happened today was my “first” breath.
Nevermind the sore legs, from Saturday’s hike. Nevermind the unfinished–unstarted–calculus homework, the college application, the fees, and messy room. Nevermind the cold. Or the warm period blood…
I guess that’s easy for me to write, now that I’m here, once again, in a more attentive state, before bed. Or rather, before bedtime prayers.
I didn’t start this post with a prayer. Can I really pray here? Must I choose between prayer and documenting? This must be art. An expressive expression of the self, the human made in God’s image. Child of God. I want to share my prayer. I want to show my wounds.
If you could see through my eyes, you would see some fingers–etched by hours of crochet, knot-tying, dish-washing–typing on a dim screen, some fragile words of resistance.
I can’t “nevermind” my heart.
Complacency. Humility. Forgiveness.
Forum. Talk. Pride.
Help. Stop. Love.
Lactose-free. Skinny cheese. Photography.
Adoration. Butterflies. new New Moon.
Well, I guess I should start my prayer, since I’m getting nowhere.
Remember how I took the long way home, just to pass by the church? So I could awkwardly cross myself while driving at 25mph?
Remember when I cried that night, after I–I don’t know what I did…
That other night as well…
How many nights were there?
When I felt so alone?
When my heart pounded in the dark, out of fear, or out of I never know.
I barely remember those nights now, but somehow the tears find their way back home. My heart keeps them there, waiting for a moment like this.
This moment that ends somehow.
I know you’re somewhere.
Is this grief?
When’s the last time I spent a minute in prayer?
I remember reaching the top of that mountain. A hike. Swollen fingers. Gas station. Someone stole a pack of gum. I bought a Cliff bar and 10 on 3.
Anger. Frustration. How could she forget me? I waited for half an hour! Not even the orange morning sky could snap me out of that. Nor the happy birds. The cold rock I sat on. Free wifi. Warm car. So, I left.
Driving. Grey skies. Mountain. Mile ten.
UGH. I’LL DO IT ANYWAY.
I reached the top. Out of breath. Cold. Sweaty. Blue jay. Ate the Cliff bar.
Happy hikers said hello as I passed by. Polite thank yous when the trail narrowed, and I waited for them to pass by.
How could I pray in such a place?
“Lord, give me strength (to climb to the top).
Lord, give me strength (to take one more step).
Lord, please, have mercy (I need to reach the bottom).”
And then…I went home.
I went to Mass.
I received communion. And I tried to be someone else. You see, some other day, I saw someone else look at the crucifix and sign themselves, after receiving communion. And I did that. (But I would never do that on my own.) But I did.
Have I written enough yet?
To end this, here are my top 5 ideas/prayers:
I would like to have the stigmata. (Big ask, but whatever.)
I would like to fear nothing.
I would like to finish reading at least one of my thrifted books.
I wish my best friend knew my God.
I pray my writing is not in vain–although it probably is.