i'm mad about you. mad about those sea-blue eyes, your smile, and the little crescent dimple it makes. i'm mad about the way you look into my eyes when we're right up close. i'm mad about the way you hold my head and touch my face. i'm mad about the way you send me reeling. mad about the way you deepen all my feelings.
i'm mad about you. mad about what happened. i'm mad about the way the seizures and the drugs waste and rule you. mad about your suffering, your deficits, your mania, your biting and banging, your drool. i'm mad about the fact you can't speak. mad about the way you wail and shriek and moan. mad about where you send me when it's to a place i loathe.
i'm mad about you. mad about the way you age me. mad about the way you wake to slay me. mad about the way you box me in and limit me. mad about the way you consume me. mad about the way you can never leave me be. mad that i can't leave you, either.
years ago, in tears, i called a friend, searching for a trusted someone with whom to share my woes. at first she listened. then she made the claim—perhaps meant to ease my state—that the universe tries to find equilibrium. and though it's noble hoping, i'm fairly sure that isn't true; rather (thinking of calvin) random chaos rules. she hinted at my anger since your birth, then went on to speak of acceptance—of you. i told her i was capable of holding both emotions. later, in a message, she wrote:
my intent is unwavering, which is simply to love and support you.
i know. xoxo
that was the last i heard from her. funny how some people's universe works.
i accept you. yes. i'm mad about you, too. mad about the way you make me swoon. mad about your soft skin and freckles and locks of auburn hair. i'm mad about the way you make me laugh and rage and fret and weep. mad about the every way you make me think and feel and dream.
|many moons ago.