Another day, I walk into a bookstore and ask for wine, I mean it has to be in the self help section right. I laugh with my mouth open after months, and from then on everything sounds like a joke. I dance to cheap thrills and always in the centre of the dancing floor. Every day is a weekend. I walk the streets almost always with a song playing in my head. I trust and let everyone hold me. This is the part I forget to brush my hair , my bangles jingle when I put my arms around people, this is the part I’m fun and charming and lovable, this is the part i’m trying to choke myself on glitter and call it living.
Cannot wait to get home and listen to Billie Holiday, lay on floors and day dream about lonely bus rides on crooked mountain roads. I’m having lunch and suddenly I want to be on a beach side, so then I leave. want to walk a thousand miles and all of it alone. Most of the time my heart is breaking, from all the missing, from strange bus stands and all the boards that are in a language I don’t understand, from being scared. But I easily rise above it all, I’m easily comfortable in hard seats of wobbly buses, easily I learn to turn my heart into a closed fist, like a road warrior, like how all girls learn anyway when they’ve been terrified enough times. And I want to call the road, a womb.I always grow in many ways when on it.
This is beyond me, this is greater than me. I stay awake all night thinking about women in my life, crying over someone else’s wounds like it’s my own. I massage oil onto my sister’s hair on some balmy afternoons, help my grandfather cut his nails. this is the only thing I know that’s close to kindness, I realise. I have a large box full of hate notes to myself under my bed but I want to repeat do you realise how beautiful you are, you warm tender thing to everyone I love, I know I disappear but I’m right here with you. I love you I love you I love you, and I want nothing in return. Only if I were able to say it to myself.
All these women and grief is still bigger.
– journal ; All The Women I Am by Thamanna Razak