day131 - the sadness will end
"There is a sadness in this world, for we are ignorant of many things. Yes – we are ignorant of many beautiful things. Things like the truth. So sadness in our ignorance is very real. The tears are real. What is this thing called a tear? There are even tiny ducts – tear ducts – to produce these tears should the sadness occur.
Then the day when the sadness comes. Then we ask, 'Will the sadness which makes me cry, will the sadness that makes me cry my heart out, will it ever end?'
The answer, of course, is yes. One day, the sadness will end."
Twin Peaks Episode 3 Introduction
Read by Margaret Lanterman (Catherine Coulson)
I have it on good authority that the sadness will end soon. My log told me so, and my log knows many things that I don't. Will you let me mix metaphors? I get reeeeally bored when I force myself to stick with just one.
I love self mythologising. I'm Joan of Arc, Cassandra of Troy— I'm not even trying to lay claim to their righteousness or heroism or purity of purpose (at least those aren't the main draws for me). I'd just like to be the kind of person that people look back on and think: "She deserved better", and if not that, at least: "She didn't deserve what she got."
Anyway, the point is that I'm Apollo's broken prophet and last night I had a dream with oracular clarity. We were celebrating because it was finally over, letting loose our held tongues, saying everything we wanted to say but couldn't at the time. Because I'm exactly as dramatic in my dreams as I am in normally, I got down on one knee and asked if you would be mine. Trust me, if that didn't actually happen I wouldn't have made it up and risked sounding like the biggest dork ever. I don't remember what you said, but I have a pretty good guess as to what it was.
The world feels quite different to the one that I inhabited three or so weeks ago, and I don't even necessarily mean that in a bad way. Both of our partners have moved out and subsequently into much more favourable housing situations, and there have been a few stray heartbeats on the ECG of my stagnant acting career. I've encountered so much art and music that has reinvigorated my desire to find my own voice (and figure out how to make it sound pretty). I can't help but be hopeful, which is something I've said several times in the last few weeks and then doubled back on when the horrors started to encroach— and I give myself permission to do the same here, but I do sincerely believe that it could stick this time. As painful as the uncertainty and separation have been, I know how much this means to me, and consequently that I would wait however long I needed to for this.
While driving to pouce tonight the strong winds and all of the branches on the road reminded me how so many things are being knocked loose lately. If our love is the last mango Monster Energy can in the vending machine, lodged at a bizarre angle between the spindle and the glass, I think the swift tap to dislodge it must be coming soon.
Trust me: I'm a vessel for divine knowledge, I can't be wrong.