i realize tonight, now, here in this office with the cold night sky seeping in through the cracks of my windows and smelling of pine needles--eyes sore with the love i can feel coming through all the motions of adorations surrounding me--that i am one miserable woman. No. that isn't even quite enough. or perhaps it's just simpler than i can allow my desire for words and images and senses to swirl themselves into something that sounds much prettier than:
i have no idea how to be happy.