Marjorie thinks that ghosts can be broken down into science

something about layers being too thin and when we see them, it just means that we the living have thinner layers. I wonder if that means that if you see them, you are closer to dying that those who cannot?

marjorie understands that sometimes i need to be alone for awhile but that i love her just the same.

i am collecting my thoughts. it’s been so long since i’ve written to myself and i don’t know if i’m better or worse for it. maybe both, equally. but that doesn’t make sense. or maybe it does.

i’m not where i thought i would be at this very moment, but the universe tells me every day that this is where i am supposed to be. i’ve become a corporate sleezeball but fuck don’t i love being able to support my family in a way that my family was never supported before. i make promises to myself and i break them but i never break promises i make to other people.

that probably says something about me that i would disagree with if ever said aloud.

i think about where i am right now and where i want to be and who i want to be and why i want to be her.

i can tell you that all my life i’ve felt like a girl and only very recently have i felt like a woman. i thought that if i was fucked the right way or seen in the correct way that all of those things would equate to womanhood but turns out, it’s the way the light hits my eyes and reminds me that i have spilled over and out of adolescence.

imagine that?

i can tell you that i want to make art and i want to make love and i want to make the world a better place and i want to stay southern because it’s the one thing about me that’s always felt authentic and i don’t think i can be this woman outside of the south.

i promise, i promise, the south is more than you think it is.

is it obvious that i’m rusty and that the words have been rotting? i think that’s what happens when they build in your rib cage for almost a year. i think i started turning shades of red for apparent reasons.

love? i met a woman studying meteorology. a sailor named sam who laughed at the right moments and once told me a very charming story about endless breadsticks. you ever meet someone who should be right for you, but they’re not for you?

this woman i’ve become doesn’t shake at the mere fucking mention of falling in love anymore.

what else i can tell you?

i once wrote about the big bang and how she delivered a mighty blow to my heart. but life came back around and she came back around and i love her in such a wholesome, lovely way now.

i spied on the girl i first said i love you too and all i could think about was how small her teeth are still and that she doesn’t look like the girl who once loved me but a woman i don’t know.

i let the universe speak to me about her still and i move along.

love doesn’t stop me in my tracks anymore. loss doesn’t stop my breath.

you may have guessed but i think i still lo

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Leona View All →

30-something Mississippi queer. Bleeding heart with a soft spot for honesty and oversharing. Conquering corporate America and my own insecurities– one day at a time.

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