the summer is dwindling and for the first time in 16 years, i'm not buying back to school supplies.

yet, i have gobs of studying materials littered all over the place in preparation for the test that will determine the effectiveness of those 16 years of back-to-school-sale preparations and all the work that came after it.

four years of college for a test -- the test.

and i'm sitting around looking at the summers of others, and in comparison mine looks a little boring.

studying in my free time for two and a half months, planning a wedding, prepping for marriage, having no roommate... i haven't exactly been super sociable.

and i wonder about this marriage stuff and this nursing stuff and this office-work-number-crunching stuff... and wow is it weird.

no more mcconn in the fall. no more goodman and jackson and shatford. no more epworth parties or sga office late nights.

and it's not like it's even iwu necessarily, it's that none of what is coming is familiar. because even studying i'm used to, but being a real nurse with bills and commutes and stuff? wow.

but here is God, in the midst of all this, as clear as day, whispering confidence when i have none. (okay, sometimes he has to shout to make it evident, but you get the drift...) and then i remember the affirmations he sends me, of his love, his death and resurrection, his Body and his Spirit. his guidance and grace when i'm going nuts with worry.

and i get homesick too, which is weird. i miss my mom and dad, and like a child i pout. i miss my friends and i get sad seeing them drift. i get scared that we'll never stay in touch and i get jealous and lonely.

i feel like i'm not ready to be a big kid, but i know i have no choice.

"For you I'd bleed myself dry."

naked and felt no shame. what a wishful eden.

it seems silly to plan it all now. we fumble with our clunky words to try and fit these puzzle pieces of our lives, bodies, manners of shopping and unwinding into something that makes a bit of sense. a bit is all we ask for.

and i hate leaving him at night, retreating to my lodge alone. i'm ready to stay at his place because the goodbyes seem so hurried and  strange. they are the only time when he doesn't feel like home.

a touch and a sigh, warm arms and "good night": i retreat to solitude, pining for a cuddle-filled night.

married. i'm getting married. to my love, the one waiting for me in the field of trees at the end of the dirty path of stairs. he waits for me. 

i could kiss him everyday and my mom says that's okay.

sick.vomit.peptobismol.and.im.still alone.
sleeping on the couch where we used to roam.
leaving today for what used to be my home. no goodbye? fine.
third party interceptors, telling me what i already know.
i made a list of all the things i want. its long.
tell me when you start to walk my way.
im expecting you, any day, any day.

 I am a second-place, second-rate girl.
gave him my passwords, my body, my heart and now

now i'm just "really really good"
and she's still "amazing"

fantasy or not, it hurts. it kills, it burns.

he showed up in my dream last night
he just resumed normality
and laughed at my questions.

and i am so lost in feeling second-best.

him: yes i want to date her, but i want to date you more.
him: she was this amazing fantasy, but you're this good reality.
me: but not amazing.
him: but really really good.

brown hair. brown eyes. smarts and sighs. i've got nothing.
he calls my crafts intrusive, while he gawks at her art
even my poetry doesn't enthrall him,
not like her facepaint facade.

i am nothing, but i love still.

 only sound

and the negligent pining seems wasteful at times
and my late night prayers, are they heard?

I ask You to make the deaf hear
and all he does is disappear.

with his cryptic fairytales in my face
i lose, i lose, i lose this race.
(tell me, is it her you chase?)

this fantasy, figment of your lack of imagination
and i'm praying, staying, waiting, wishing for a word.

just a word.

i thought i was your pearl.

 him. with a ring in his pocket.
me. with my heart in my hands.

open fists and i ask him to set the scales and weigh and wait.
he gasps when he sees the shape of my pathetic pacemaker.
wounded, gaping, scarred.

and we go about, scraping together tears and breaths and pregnant pauses and 
wait
wait

for the sound of his apology, the crinkle of some flowers being vased outside my door. 
for the buzz of the phone to remind me i'm more than a memory.
for the knight i knew to come blazing in with his sword high.

afraid, but not weak. i wait for him to fight.
i wait for his hesitations to evaporate, leaving his burly capacities unveiled.

more than anything, i fear he won't return. even that would be worse
than a no,
than a wait-for-someone-better,
than an i'm-going-back-for-her.

cinderella, her shoes a-strapped and her lashes curled,
waiting for her carriage ride. i join the ladies-in-waiting
the ladies who never stop waiting.

and he says, "beyonce"
and I say, "what?"
and he says, "boy, was i talking you for granted..."

and my impatient compulsion screams a silent agreement. 
he says, "i see you."
and i think, "than why do you hesitate?"

and does he know that every second he takes to figure us out, brings us further and further apart?
and does he know how to woo?

my gut is to teach him, but the lessons are over. this is the test.

he moved here over a month ago
and it's weird and good and fun and crazy

because every day is a mini-vacation
and yes, my grades are showing my bliss
(it's apparent in every class/question i miss)

he. has. a. ring. oh. oh. oh. my.

mmmmm. who knows, what next? oh yes. a paper, a test and some stress.
but i love my job more than my major and i love love love him. 
even when i worry with the bank account under five bucks.

worth it. 

 I've been negligent. don't remind me.

this. summer. splendid.

i don't know what to say. i have no handy adjective to make this work.

all i know is? i'm in love. and it's a pretty big deal.
i mean we're chatting m's and w's and my mom is obsessed with say yes to the dress
and wow. 

but i've been flaking a few rules and waking around in a two-piece. can you believe it?
still as fat as can be, but he makes me feel gorgeous.

so much to say. i haven't really processed everything.
why? well, i've been living in the moment. 
i mean, really.

and for once he calls me strong. and i belie e it.
because i am. i'm even wearing india gear and tie-dye to prove it.

applying for student loans, ordering books, sending emails.
and here am i, back to the bookworm business.
say adios to summer, eh?

 nausea, dry mouth and the like.

hello zoloft and onto a better life? 

the compulsions to mess up are down. my heart doesn't race at the thought of work to do.

it's nice, really.

but then there's that weird dream i had last night. someone was trying to spoon with me. and he did it three times, and i kicked him away. but i never saw him the first two -- i just heard him lay down and felt his breath on my neck and then he disappeared. it was all rather strange and it felt sooooo real. 

now to a nap. i miss allan. i miss allan.

i am the scum of the earth. the worm in the dirt. dig dig dig
i am the bile in the vomit. the bits of corn left in tact in the crap.

i am the diarrhea of existence.

i am red-handed. strung. i am the naked woman caught in the act.

i deserve every stone. i deserve every stone. i deserve every stone.

i am the ugly, the dead, the lost. i am hunger, i am lust, i am disease.

i am the purulent drainage. i am the infected hangnail, folicle, pustule.

i am the acidic burning of the esophagus. the tumor of the brain.
the tumor of the brain. i am the chancre.

i am the dirty rose. the despicable. the despised. the dejected and disgusting.

me. putrid. filthy.  who can save this wretch? who could ever love the dirty rose?
i am the pits. the stink. the body odor. the hair toes. the fungus.

i am my own affliction.

The Lord your God is with you
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you
He will quiet you with his love
He will rejoice over you with singing.

Save me O God. Save me.