like a virgin,

touched for the very first time.

dear hubert,

i wish you hadn't of moved out. i know you never wanted to cuddle with me but i'll never forget those weeks we spent having slumber parties while trevor was on tour. you used to let me hold your paw like we were holding hands when no one was looking and i really appreciate it. you taught me how to like cats, we painted the living room, and you left. i guess it was time for you to move along. you were always a rebel anyway.

be safe stinky--

love,
mama

note to self, eat more plums.

"...plums contain chlorogenic acid, which may decrease anxiety and depression."

although i'm feeling much better today anyway.

i feel like someone just kicked the shit out of me.

the light poured from the corner of the house five or six feet away from the picnic table bathing it in a yellow glow.
in the dark of night faces shown clearly as i moved behind you to feel your shoulders in my hands.
"sit here, please," said his father as he moved in a singular motion from your side on the bench next to his son.
i explained i'd have plenty of sitting to do on the ride home. additionally, i get to sit next to you all the time.
i turned to the man's son and told him how proud i was of him. it was obviously the most minimal comment i could make, maybe a little obvious too but, i mean every syllable as i uttered it. i knew he could tell as he hugged me in response.
while i stood behind you he paid me the same compliment he gave me not too long ago on another intoxicated warm night.
his father agreed, a man i've met twice, that you had a good woman. i think i grabbed your shoulders again, pressing my fingers in softly (a novice at massage anyhow), attempting to keep busy to hide my embarrassment and appreciation.
in that warm glow at the table i'm not sure you even heard them speaking, your face forward.
both times he's told me though all i wish is that you agree.

I don't want a crystal ball, I'd really just appreciate some sort of guiding light.
Glowing in front of the thing I should be studying in school, or the food I should be eating, or the job I should be wanting; just a suggestive glowing lighting the way.

I hope I'm actually as ready as I feel I might be, about at least attempting to start chipping away at these three classes. For now I guess you could say I'm in the earliest of early planning stages. Things must be aligned but I'd like to be able to start up again by the winter or spring semester, there's lots of ducks to line up and the like.

I want to be someone that people can be proud of.

It's amazing the difference night and day can make. Or the difference a pair of arms and a handful of text messages can make.
Please excuse me if I'm a little rough around the edges but, I think I'm back and I like the way it feels.
I don't just mean back from these past 4 days or so of chest pounding and head spinning, I mean back at a keyboard and back trying to make something of this goddamn gift of life I've been given. Jessica Perry- the eternal cheese-ball optimist.
I understand that this is not anything that will reach the masses. I'm not really sure it reaches anyone at all. Getting it out of my head in a context where I can see it and read it and possibly even get feedback is something I need though. I'm tired of writing shitty poems and tucking them away in my desk. I'm tired of writing things I like and being too nervous or embarrassed to show them to anyone. Most of all I don't want to have to go through the humiliation of not being taken seriously if I do manage the cojones to try to show it to someone. The beauty of the internet, which I somehow forgot, is I could be showing all this to millions of people or no one at all but it's out there and that's part of the battle.
The thing is I've always been better at putting the jumbled mess of my thoughts down in words than I have ever been in speaking them. I mentioned being embarrassed before but sometimes I think that's only part of it. I'm always more scared about being misunderstood or misinterpreted. If you have it in front of you it just leaves less room for error, in theory.
I've been clenching my teeth and pounding my chest and reminding myself to breath all week and it's just because I'm scared. Sometimes it happens. Ironically enough, it seems to happen around this time every year. Isn't that fucked up? Getting off topic...
The initial point I'm trying to make here is that I write things down. It's just how I roll, so to speak. And I hope you don't think that it has anything to do with the importance of the things I feel or the comfortability I have with you (others) it has more to do with the comfortability I have with myself. I'm more comfortable in black in white because the grays just fuck everything up anyway.
I'm not going to re-read this, and I'm pretty sure I've gotten pretty far away from the initial map I had laid out in my head.
All in all I'm just tired of spinning my wheels and I want to do everything I can to change it at a manageable pace so I don't fuck it all up again.