I love you

That’s what he said.

When I asked what made him say that his response was:

“I don’t know. I don’t want to lose you over three words.”

Since then, I’ve been nauseous.

Coincidence?

I think not.

Competing with men’s comfort zones is pulling me apart. Everything is never ending.

Serendipitous conversation

Have you had one of those conversations you never saw coming from someone you’ve known, but suddenly find out is willing to introduce themselves to you on another level? A conversation that tears down walls and opens up doors?

I had that conversation tonight.

It was if I was looking through a key hole and suddenly everything aligned, illuminated and gave me a desperately needed glimmer of hope.

Good people exist.

They’re tired and skittish, but what a brutiful sight when a spark sets off a blaze of bravery to share their souls once more.

Off guard

I met a friend for a drink tonight after having a unsettling start to this week. Then, we went to see ‘A Star Is Born” together. I guess it is fair to say that I am haunted by the performance. It stirred up memories and emotions in me. I tried to meditate and read unsuccessfully. I’m still lying here awake in these early morning hours not able to appreciate the silence because of the noise of my mind.

I can’t place my finger on what has set my mind adrift and shadow boxing.

And I quote …

We’ve known all of this was at stake since the day Donald Trump was elected ― just as we knew it the day he nominated Brett Kavanaugh. We know the enormous task that lies before us. We’re shellshocked, yes, but we’re prepared.

This brutal, horrendous action only gives us more drive and passion. And it will help us make the case to millions of other Americans that we must take our country back in the midterm elections.

And I quote …

I’m learning to see. I don’t know why it is, but everything penetrates into me more deeply and doesn’t stop at the place where, until now, it always used to end. I have an inner life that I didn’t know about. Everything goes there now. I don’t know what happens there.

The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge