Like a Leaf on the Wind

This entire week has been stagnant in process, if that makes any paradoxical sense it all... Which it does and does not at the same time.

*Brain explosion*

Ups and downs, rollercoaster, instability. There are your plain, English words and phrases.
Now I've got 59 minutes left in my Friday night. So, what to do? Part of me wants to fall into the easy pattern of habit. Part of me wants to put on my mothers clothes and dance to ABBA.
What's the point of either? Maybe I'll do something inbetween, like put on some Death Cab, and sing and cry and clean and boogy. That sounds about right, I suppose. Plus, I have a novel to finish. I'm about halfway through, and even though I scoff at some chapters (which I shouldn't, because judgement is something I'm trying to expel from my being), I'm rather enthralled by it. It's a bit dark for an evening read, but I don't feel fearful. And I don't feel the need to feel fearful.

Tongue twister?

I want to express thanks for all of the love in my life. Everything in my life is rooted in and branches from it - even the sadness and fear I am so frequently visited by; if I wasn't so strongly in love with every little bit of my life, why would I feel sadness or fear in losing it? I especially want to express my gratitude for my cat, Cleo, who has been trailing me as of late. She sits like a gargoyle on my desk when I'm on Facebook, and sleeps in a ball on the nest of clothes on my bedroom floor at night (Or, when I sleep, which is just as much in the daytime. I'm probably turning into a cat myself). She can likely sense better than anyone the internal processes I'm going through, and seems to smell the tears before they fall. I genuinely believe she is my own, personal, spotted guardian angel. I love her dearly.

Also, I miss my mom. I love her, too, and would be lost without her. I feel as if this is maybe something that could be inappropriate to share with the internet. I'm not sure why I feel this way, since I certainly don't have an issue with censoring... I don't think people read this unless I refer them, anyways. Perhaps I feel as if it's something I want to horde inside of myself for fear of letting it leak out and becoming less. If that's why I'm exhibiting caution, then how foolish must I be? No amount of sharing my love for my mum -or ANYTHING, for that matter - could tire me out to the point where I'll say to myself, "I've said it enough. I don't care anymore."

So, I love my mom.
I love my cat, I love my brother, I love my dad. I love my adopted and biological families, only one of which I have known until this recent year. I love the world, and the journeys I'm about to embark on throughout it. I love these opportunities, and the fear I feel at leaving this part of my life behind (if only for a short while)(and not for a while). I love my friends and the people to which the label 'friend' doesn't quite adhere for reasons that will remain untyped. I love God.

I love you.