Life in Capital Letters

Monday.

A day spent angry at the “system” - whatever the hell that means.

Tuesday.

The power went off at work. Transformer blew. The whole building let out a collective #$%)*! as documents were lost and important phone calls threatened to end, but the anger quickly melted into child-like giddiness at the simple prospect of sitting in a dark building with people you don’t really know that well. As I navigated the narrow, red-lit hallways to the downstairs break room, I noticed that the accountants - usually so quietly hidden behind their computers, doing the unseen work of the agency - had pulled their chairs out from their desks and rolled them all into the upstairs vestibule. There they sat, spinning in their chairs and laughing at the futility of anger. It was a nice moment. I laughed darkly, wondering why it takes the lights going out for us to realize our humanity.

The power went off when I was the shower once, a few years ago.
That’s all.

Wednesday.

I thought about what is broken. Wondered why I get this knot of fear in my stomach when I think about trying, trying hard again, to love. Mused on the possibility that we all fail to love, that trying to truly bridge the chasm between two individuals almost always means falling into that chasm and staying in the dark.
Still, I can’t help but love to love. I hope we crawl out one day.

Thursday.

More rain. I thought about that time when I was a freshman in high school and we had walked to the dairy queen to get ice cream and got caught in a torrential summer downpour. We ate our ice cream in the frigid AC of the shop, our wet clothes sticking to us and our skin covered in goosebumps. Then we ran back out into the warm-as-bathwater rain. My boyfriend kissed me in downpour, our kiss tasted like ice cream and we had little streams of rain running into our mouths.

That was the first and last time I’ve been kissed in the rain.

Friday.

Rabidly hormonal, I thought about sex. I remembered how long I waited compared to many of my friends (I was nearly 18). But it wasn’t until you that sex became powerful. I felt transformed when we made love.
Sometimes I’m scared to feel that way. I wondered today if you felt that, too.