The last few weeks have been OBNOXIOUSLY fun and delightful and good and wonderful and all sorts of things. Which has made me realize I have a slightly paranoid, cynical streak to me, since I've been walking around basically waiting for something horrifically terrible to happen to even things out. Last week, for example, Ms. Mo didn't respond to a phone call in a timely manner, and I immediately started freaking out that something had happened to her and that this was my punishment for being blissfully content. When she called back, she just laughed. She gets it too I think. For once our upswings are synchronized, and I think we both have some strange cosmic paranoia that things can't POSSIBLY be feeling this good without something going drastically wrong. Sad. I think it's some sort of internalized feeling that we don't deserve the happiness. Despite the fact that we fucking do. That MOTHER OF GOD it's about fucking time.

This week I was told that I have a lot of self-loathing. Check. This week I was also told that I deserve to have someone take care of me--not that I can't take care of myself but because I just DESERVE that. Check. This week I cried and had a fucking BEAUTIFUL deserving friend distract me by making me laugh and eat grilled cheez. This week I had someone sit and listen to me because I needed to be listened to, even if just for a brief moment, and rub their hand gently against my ear as I spoke.

My connection with the universe feels so strange lately. Not in a bad way. Just in a mysterious way. It's strange how sometimes you're looking for something in a totally different place when all of the sudden, slam, you get sideswiped in ways unexpected. It's kind of like when you're trying to make out that one sort of faint star in the sky, and when you stare at it head on, it blends into the background, but as soon as you look slightly away, it just sorta blazes out at you. Same.

I am, as always, afraid.

A good friend had a strange Tetsuo-esque dream about me the other night. He shared it with me yesterday, and we laughed:

i had an awesome dream about you last night. we were making out somewhere sort-of public but in a private corner of said place and you were wearing a black vinyl top, but loose fitting, and open in the back except for a few strings that held it closed. anyway, so we were macking on each other and in my usual smooth fashion i work my way to feeling up yer b00bs. you didn't shoot me down so we were making out and i was feeling you up and then i went to tweak your nips a little bit but they were really hard. and i was like: 'wow. your nips are hard as nails.' and you go: 'oh, that's because i just had these installed...' and you untied the back of your shirt to reveal that you had big metal nails driven through where your nips should be. i was fascinated and kept sort of pinching them even though you couldn't really feel anything. and then from nowhere you produced a nail gun and you said (except when you said it the words actually printed in the air): "If You Want To Be With Me You're Going To Have To Get Used To This." and then you shot the nail into my hand and i just looked at it and so did you. and then i shrugged and we went fervently back to making out.

see? awesome.

His love is such that I wish I could bottle it. We can share with each other things like this dream, we can say I love you, and there is a generosity and understanding to it that I cherish. This dream is also strangely intuitive as well--it actually captures the duality of myself that I've been having a difficult time dealing with lately... How to manage the constant battle between vulnerability and emotional armor, softness and metal, how to let them coexist.

This week I feel importance.

Last night I ran a last minute pie out to a van in my barefeet. I got blown a kiss. I showered. I woke up three times during the night, and each time, I thought to myself: I am loved.

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