Sending You My Love

Williamsburg, Brooklyn, New York

Slept late. Couldn't get out of bed. Tired. Depressed. Sad. Went to therapist appointment. Got there early. Half an hour to kill. Cold out. Walked Flatbush Ave. looking for something to eat. Stopped in diner. Place empty. Felt empty inside of me. Didn't like idea of eating alone, being single. Remembered solitary feeling, eating alone in Austin, before I met Marie.

In therapy talked about discrepancy between girls I choose and the girl that I really want. Want a girl who respects herself, respects me. Choose girls who seem to do the opposite. Try to figure out why. I connect with a sadness that I see in the girls I choose, feel empathy for them, as I understand the sadness. The women I choose seem to be wounded in some way. I empathize with that. I want to show them love. I want them to love themselves again. I choose women who in some way have given up on themselves or life. They want to die, that is why they abuse themselves with alcohol or drugs. At a certain point I get tired of being a casualty of their carelessness towards themselves and the people around them - me. I realize I have to choose women who respect themselves, who are trying to better themselves, who want to live. I am trying to live. I used to thrive on self destruction. I realize that it serves me no more. I feel boring... that is why I choose women who are chaotic - to make me feel that I am not. I need to be okay with taking care of myself and let the self destruction go...

Walk through the cold to subway, wishing that I had my warm clothes - they're in two boxes in Utah. Picture my clothes at home (at the apartment - it's not home anymore) in bags, ready to go. Thought of clothes in boxes and bags weighs me down as I walk through cold, drifting...

Get on wrong train. Have to back track.

Didn't want to go home. Didn't know what to expect from Marie. Drunk? Upset? Icy? Apartment feels like morgue to me. Stop at coffee shop around the corner from apartment. Don't want to go home.

Go to yoga. Teacher has us meditate on someone in our life who is in pain. We are comforting them. Think of Marie. I picture her in pain.

I Take away the thing that is causing her pain, coursing through her body like a black liquid disease - me. I see the pain etched on her face. I sit across from her in the room, sending her love. I breath the blackness out of her into me, through me, into my heart, a red rose holding a diamond of light, radiant, all encompassing, brilliant. I breath out the blackness, sending it away into a wisp of vapors, taking away her pain, returning her to self love, able to move on...

LOve