i honestly honestly can't believe i was nineteen before i knew that i was gay, but.
lately i've been having recurring dreams about the same church but everything's flip-turned-upside-down. there is no secret room. there is no beautiful girl whiterabbiting me. there is no sensation that i am safe. the whole dream is about finding ways to protect myself there, to catch some villain who chesirecats in and out while everyone else blasely eats ice cream, to set up barricades that will cause thunderclaps and wake me if anyone intrudes upon my sleep.
it's monday. i used to do tarot card readings for myself every monday, one card, to hone my focus for the coming week. but maybe i need to be doing past-present-future about this. what kind of cards will i draw. what tumult is going on around the ocean floor of my brain.
i was an anxious child. i felt safe only with other girls, in the secret worlds we constructed between us in unsteady rushes of orange-soda-sickly-sweet words. what do i have now. what more elaborate emotional spiderwebs. my "resources." and should i let myself keep setting up barricades, even as i wake up unrested, alert, too precise in my knowing of fear.