This has been a nearly impossible semester, but it is finally, blessedly over.
Last summer hit me this semester. One night stands turned into life-long plans without my having a bit of a say over any of it. I was inspired. I was saddened. I was deprived. I was cherished. My mother got on a red-eye and flew across the country to be with me when I needed her.
I auditioned for a part in a play.
I got a part in the play.
I was in the play.
All was full of love, and I learned about myself and the nastiness and dirtiness of my soul – and some things about its beauty as well.
I learned about the necessity of silence, and of space. I learned that life comes at its own pace no matter what you do to speed it up or slow it down. I learned that I can fail, and that I can choose to fail. And that sometimes choosing to fail at something is the bravest decision a person can make. I made the decision to fail in some things this semester. It was hard to let go. There are still fingernail prints in my palms.
I learned that I have an almost limitless capacity for forgiveness, but that I sometimes cannot figure out how to stop the anger. I learned that I can love and hate at the same time, that I can cry and then be okay, but not. I learned that closet moments are sometimes safer than being hospitalized.
I learned that the hospital is a bad, bad angry place with scary lights.
I learned that sometimes, what I will give to you isn’t what you asked for – but it’s what I have to give, and it’s what I need to give. And that’s okay.
I learned to scream.
I learned to say goodbye.
I learned to smile again.