i am ready to go home now, please

i am covered in protection from the harmful sun-rays on this planet, level thirty to be exact, which i think is kind of like wearing a long-sleeved shirt. i haven't gone out yet, but the beach waits and the ocean too, for me to go in it when i can't take the sweating and the reading ohio code and the too-dark green highlighter (or highdarker, in this case) any longer. but before i did all that and tried very hard to numb myself down and just let the learning law brain part of me take over, i thought, maybe just write something down, just a bit of it, maybe that will help a little and free up some more space for better thoughts.

so, here then. i would like to breathe slower, and smile better or more easily is what i mean, the smile where i show my upper teeth--which are very small, really--and where the smile is all in the eyes because, let's face it, i have no lips with which to show the smile, only big eyes with lines all around them in times like that, like the smile-time. and i would like to just talk and not worry so much, without the lines that go like this: don't cry please it will be too much for you and why does this still hurt you after all this time and how could i have refused to come though and then be able just to rest without all that greeting me in the morning and tucking me in to bed at night. the days themselves are good, and filled with sun and musics and restaurant-picking, and there is only the slight urge to get here or do something and anything connected with someone or someplace that knows me rather than having that part be secret and withheld and suddenly i'm eight years old again at this beach with inescapable sun and sand and i can't seem to catch my breath when i talk about it because, you know, there is too much just pushing to get out.

and still! at the same time! too much pushing to get out and all the while every single word is killing me as it comes out, because it's my own damn fault i have to say them in the first place and i just want to get home, and home, and be alone and have no worry about what to say or how to escape or should i be doing this or not this or that instead. and where i can sit with my back to the door, remember, when i started talking in hour increments in that little room with the one window and i had to move my chair, every time, so i didn't have my back to the door, and then finally towards and at the last i moved it the other way to be square up against it, i was so much at ease and comfortable and finally talking slower and calmer and i could just let the words come as they did and didn't worry about the speed at which they came or what they sounded like once they were in my mouth and out.

so. that's done and said now. it's time for waves and big bright sky, and for swimming out and out and out and just talking to the water again, no matter how crazy i am for it. i am ready for the company of people i can sit and close my eyes and have years behind and ahead with, but today i am afraid to believe in them at all. i am trying to remember, though. i am hoping the water will remind me.