to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.
—  Ellen Bass, ‘The Thing Is’

anonymous asked:

Did you and Kukui recover the friendship after all that?

Couldn’t tell ya if I wanted to. I guess we ended on a pretty bad note, ya know? I didn’t really think there was any comin’ back from it. I didn’t even WANNA come back from it!! Figured I was a whole new person who didn’t need nobody.

But. APPARENTLY, I’m goin’ over to his place next week for dinner or somethin’. I dunno who bribed him to invite me and how much they payed ‘im (IT WAS PROBABLY HALA), but whatever. Might as well, right? Free food.