Attic

I asked for an upper room and she’s offered me the attic. The attic, fantastic, I wrote. Yes. Yes, please. He told me of it. To be up high when I am this scared feels good. It will be good. Just let go of the fear. Let it fall of me like rain.

I wake up to it. Where does it come from? Is it the thick, black dark, the cold or the still night that starts it off? It is almost beyond thought, though I know it is my mind that feeds it through the day. Drip-feeding, that drip, drip of fear. Of what? The winter? Do the animals fear it? Are they scared of being cold, of not being able to feed themselves, of being chilled to the bone? And yet, for me at least it isn’t real. I am safe, I am made warm, I have food, I have enough and the love that surrounds me is deep. I want to shake it off, I know that it is life-killing. Joy-killing.

Outside the morning is trying to come. The clouds hang, blanket-like over the sky. The moon was a half. Just a half.

In town earlier girls wandered around half-dressed sporting devils horns. Through the window at Pizza Lush I saw a girl dancing at the counter. It’s Halloween and the parties have been raging all weekend and into this week.

We were snappy again. It’s the leaving, the going away. It unsettles him and it unsettles me. Why do I do it? I need to open myself to what is possible, to give my work a chance. I need to get away and yet I long to be still, to stand still.

Walking along Northgate Terrace I smelt his cigarette. A trace of heat, it pleased me, a comfort, though the smoke stings my nose. Sensations, smells, they comfort. No bread smells this morning, the bakeries doors are closed against the cold. No frost though today.

I feel like I am holding my breath. These are big things for such a little person to do.

I listened to her adaptation and it was good. I am sorry I was mean. She is talented. Could I do that? All the time. Could I do that? Should I try that?

Let it be, I whisper. Let it be. Just as it is.