Heart and the Head Knowledge

A friend told me the heart and the head('s) knowledge are different, some times they don't cross the divide. The bridge isn't always there. It was on a different subject. I was still thinking of Harriet at the time.

I don't remember if I got a warning. Part of me suspects I did and forgot to write it down, after all how many dreams of you pregnant have I had? Pregnant with a new idea, a new job, a new relationship, a new life... How many dreams brought me up to speed before your words did?
But the last one I wrote down for sure was over a year off.
Of all the things to be weirded out by, I wonder where the tether is... why it did not cross the divide. Was it around the time that Krystin died? Was it around the time I was told I was to be an Uncle? Was it around the time I stressed myself out over school? Or threw myself head first into counseling? Or cried so so so many times last fall? this winter? where was the dream?

I'm so happy for you, I mean on a personal level, I really am. I'm so so so so happy for you. I am happy for the world. I may not always approve of everything else, but the idea of a little you in the world makes me happy. I imagine it is a girl. Thats so weird.


I was up late last night unable to sleep. I was thinking of relationships and trips. I was thinking of how life unspools in a way that feels as if this thing will always matter as precisely as it seems to right now. But tomorrow it really doesn't. I don't remember what that room looked like. Or the name of that town. Or the name of that student. Or that face. That set of arms. That laugh. I wanted to stop to see Victoria, but I couldn't get myself to do it, just as always. I worried she'd be too skinny, or I would feel too distant.

I cried in Starbucks yesterday thinking about Krystin. Thinking about her Dad and his desire to find closure. Thinking about her brother and his distance. Thinking about myself.

I cried thinking about Harriet today. I couldn't even remember her name, but I did recall the sound of her voice, the cheeky look on her face, a restaurant in Sucre.

I cried today, just for a second thinking of my lonesome self. A pity party for one. I hate how often I am desperate for company, but don't want to say anything. Easy enough to tell a friend, I want you to like me, much harder to say why.