A Love Letter

Dear Alana Noel,

Did I win the lottery?

Look at you. Gorgeous, inside and out. Your warmth, your flame, your resilience. No one is more resilient than you. You tried to ask that guy, what are angels?

Let me hand you a mirror. Check it out. You’re one in a million, baby.

Want me to fight for you? I will.

Want me to make a grand romantic gesture? Name it. Your wish is my command. All you have to do is want it. All you have to do is believe in yourself.

Right now, you’re making things happen, going after what you want, and getting it, you. All that power and potential. Your talent knocks me out. No one puts more love into what she does, no one takes that kind of time or exudes that amount of effort. Nevermind the accolades or attention. You’re in it for the self-discovery, the journey, but in case you ever wondered. You inspired someone. Right here. Consider me your cheerleader, baby.

That nightmare about the avalanche was a metaphor. You dug yourself out. Like a phoenix rising from ash. I saw, your witness. You tried to ask that guy, what are angels?

Look.

See that light?

You’re inner and outer beauty, the whole package, the big sha-bang.

Promise. I will love you like a revolution. I’ve got your back, in your corner, always.

I love you.

ANV

 

Am I Menopausal, Or Am I a Werewolf?

Signs I Am Menopausal. 

Hot flashes.

Night sweats.

Insomnia.

Mood swings.

Brain fog (loss of memory.)

Difficulty concentrating.

Irritability.

Fatigue.

Skin rashes/acne.

Obsession with hair.

Joint pain.

Weight gain/loss.

 

Signs I Am a Werewolf.

Hot flashes.

Night sweats.

Insomnia.

Mood swings.

Brain fog (loss of memory.)

Difficulty concentrating.

Irritability.

Fatigue.

Skin rashes/acne.

Obsession with hair.

Joint pain.

Weight gain/loss.

 

“I was shaking and sweating.  I had wanted to kill them.  The moon was a white dinner plate broken exactly in half.  I saw myself as I was . . . standing on a slab of cold concrete, a broom handle slipping from my hands, my breasts bare, my hair on end, afraid of what I might do next.” Dorianne Laux