(Rose under ice. Picture taken by my boy. Summer . . . 2000 . . . and . . . 4.)
I thought of this a few days ago. I have to go find the sticky note I wrote it on . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Found it. I wrote it on the back of a crossword puzzle book. I have so many notes just lying around. It's eerily like that independent film "Memento" up in here. Someone remind me to combine all my post-its into one big list.
But the quote. I was crying in my boy's arms and telling him everything that flew through my head while he held me with the promise that it'll be fine . . . and I was saying things like . . . "I'm Jekyll & Hyded . . . "
Gah! I can't find the direct quote response he had for me!
But anyway. He said to me that he loved them both. Both my Jekyll and my Hyde.
It was at that point that I balled some more.
Maybe I should name my own polars.
Not use what Robert Louis Stevenson made up . . . but make up my own names.
Like . . . "Who I want to be" and "Who I end up being."
It's just not as concise. Looks like RLS got it smack on.
I haven't even posted the quote I meant to yet.
The quote was . . .
And this rings in my mind like a mantra . . .
These words came from my frantic, frazzled lips . . .
"I write so I remember."
And so I shall. Even if it's only to myself. I'm all I've had since . . . as long as I can remember. No one else is in my skull with me. It's just me.
Just my squishy, confused matter and my inability to apply logic.
I'm still writing in blood red. I think I'll keep it that way.
I'm going to journey onto campus now.
I'm inducing confidence by dressing fabulously and pretending I don't hate my burden (those extra 30-odd lbs.).
It works ladies. It works.
I sure as hell know those guys I flirted with yesterday didn't notice a damn piece of my pudge. (^_~)
Outtie for now.