if time is a flat circle, that would explain a lot of things

It’s evening, around dinnertime. My eating times are all over the place and I’m getting help for that because when I forget to eat I run out of spoons, plus everything else in the metaphorical silverware drawer that holds my ability to Do The Things.

I keep getting tired approximately an hour after the kids to go bed, and then because I don’t want to go to bed yet, I end up staying awake a lot longer and then sometimes an accidental nap happens and I wake up at 2am and then I’m awake again for a while and then I go to bed. My sleep is so fucking weird since the beginning of lockdown, and it was almost this weird already before that happened. I think the last time I woke up and felt rested was a sleep-in day where I forgot to turn my alarm back on and I woke up when I was done sleeping.

About a month ago, I got myself a new fountain pen — surprisingly inexpensive for one that tends to not hurt my hands — because the one I was using is something a person that used to be special to me gave to me, because they knew it was hard for me to write by hand and the fountain pen glides across paper in such a different sort of way. When it came time to look for refills, I ordered (again, much less expensive than I expected) two bottles of ink to refill the converter by (ink-stained) hand: black ink, and red ink. The red ended up being a little too light red for me, almost pink sometimes; so I filled the converter about 2/3 with red ink and the rest with black, and gently tipped it back and forth to try and mix it a bit. The result is a gorgeously dark red that’s almost the color of dried blood. I love it.

The new pen and the mixed-by-me ink has been a good way to start forgetting how my once-special person dropped me like we were dancing and it was hot. I think I messed up that metaphor.

I’m not naming the person and I’m not going to say anything terribly specific, but I am still missing their presence in my life but not as constantly as it was at first. It’s always confusing to me when someone suddenly does not want to be connected to me, or when someone doesn’t use their words or other communication skills, or when someone just disappears when there is unfinished business between us. A big part of me being able to begin to separate myself from the loss, as I grieve my way through it, is to realize that some things cannot be resolved, some stones will remain unturned, and some choices cannot be undone.

I have been listening to this song lately; it’s got a space on my private repeatrepeatrepeat Spotify playlist, where I put things I think I like and wait to hear if they belong in one of my other playlists, or if the enjoyment was only for a little while. It’s a cover of Sia’s Bird Set Free by Keala Settle. Here’s the Youtube link:

Today’s school day was another good one for the kids. It’s really nice to see them feeling happy with themselves when they finish something or when they suddenly understand a concept. Enjoyment is few and far between some days — lots of the days — so I am trying to relish them when I find them.

Time for me to moisturize the world serpent that lives on my arm and refresh Twitter (oh god why) and wait for dinner.