10:20 p.m. - 10/23/02
love is.
I have emotional motion sickness. Things have turned around so quickly, not in the way where everything is spins and bouncing, but in that colder sort of way: where I know more than I did an hour ago, and even though knowledge wounds, my wounds teach me. I know so much I didn't know an hour, two hours ago, and I can't explain it all now. If I do, I will be pushing prematurely, and I will feel the pain of self-imposed exposure. Right now the fact that this journal is on-line is not exactly helpful. But maybe that's not it. I think, more than that you're reading it, I can't write what I know yet. I can't go into all the pain that came in answer to my prayers and what it means. I can't talk about how dark magic is white magic in a different light and how bad things serve good needs. I can't tell you about this(j) and that(d/s) and this(r) et cetera. I can barely tell myself just now.
Little whispers of words and someday I will safely string a story. Some day it will work.
Until then, let me say that Sara-who-doesn't-read-this, you are absolutely a sustaining force. I model myself after your tenacity. I am supported by your love. I collapse with relief into your understanding. I am nourished so so muchly by your heart. Let me just say, until I can say more, that it is very nice to have a sister of your sort. I love you, too. I really do. And even if I disappear for months, I go nowhere. I will always be here for you, as I am for all the sisters. We are ya-ya in an infinitely realer form. We are Redlings, and they can't take that away.
One day, they won't want to.
chord
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