im getting lost in your curls

I am very excited for the future, because

Today in my soccer game my body went through about 3 stages of freezing and thawing. The pelting rain that felt like pinpricks of iciles ran the length of my legs, contracting my muscles into a single, unyeilding mass. On the bench, wrapped in sodden blue blankets, my fingers curled like claws into sweatshirts and I hid behind my friends because I didnt want to go back in because soccer seems so trivial to me lately, I want I want but I just cant get my fingers wrapped around caring and I watched the clouds, booming and ominous and clumped masses of dark grey and crinkled wafts of lighter gray drifting across hazy white until they reached the space of sky behind the soccer bench, where they are sifted and filtered into a midnight blue. At nighttime, do the clouds go away or is it merely too dark to see them? This seemed so much more fascinating than the warrior girls, transformed by inhuman aggression, throwing insults around to undermine the other's play. ttttttttttttttrivial

I got home and underwent a straight half-hour of seizure-like shaking in which I was hot too hot but constantly in motion with tremulous (is this a word?) shivers. The steam from a hot shower felt amazing, and my new thrift store purchase was so wornly-warm, and forgiving, unlike the pulling on of stiff blue jeans straight from the wash, seemingly cold metal stilts clasped to my legs. I was struck with this hope-- that I was in a room with three tall walls of utter white, the color I want to be, pure pure pure pristine untouched , actually touched very much but untainted still and brilliant because one whole wall was window and light could pour in, and also somehow wind and it fluttered the sunflower-golden yellow curtains that trail their flimsy finger-sheets on the sand-colored hardwood floor, a brown honey color, brown sugar soft looking and delicious this room and I would paint in it, or write, or dance, and there is a large piano in the corner and I would only wear large flannel shirts and curly hair and actually be called Emma or Rose and have a child named Grace or Lucy or Will or something actually imaginative and would just create or learn all day.

Whoever left me that honestly box message on facebook (i forgot I even had that stupid pity-me box) absolutely made my day. I dont exactly believe whoever you are, but you defined a nice goal for me to strive for. Yes, I hope I can be that to you or to anyone someday. Thank you for believing! I guess you were stage -3 of my thawing process