Not hurting.

I had something on my mind, something I wanted to write about, something funny, other than feeling that the best way to live a sane life and remain emotionally stable for the moment is to hang in the vaccuum and not move. The funny thing about this anekdote is that I can actually see the vaccuum right above me, and whenever there is a possibility that my mind would slip into the well-known sad loneliness mode, the mode that in this situation is way too dangerous to slip into (have you ever tried teaching and crying at the smae time?), my eyes become blank as I quickly imagine the vaccuum and how comfy it is to be there, hang there and refuse to know or understand anything.
Meetings are being held, hearts are being twisted and turned that way and the other, they are kneaded hard in attempt to squeeze all the needed amounts of love so something can survive. We can survive. Hide and I. Or perhaps the love we have is being pulled out of the parts of the hearts that don`t seem to have been used too much, or pushed around to find the hidden little hooks it could hold onto...in order to save something so dear, the warmth and comfort, the kindness of the hearts deep... The love, poor thing, shoved around this way and that, mostly over the phone lines, the virtual tracks of emails, the trains and shabby train stations, the hurrying halls of subway. The love that up until now has lived it`s stable life within external instability, has been given a chance to finally blossom and grow...and is put in the vaccuum to float around together with me until the good winds come. Or any winds. So that it can go...the destination has not been decided just as yet. Waiting for the winds...to listen to their whisper and go...

I guess I really did forget what I wanted to write in the first place, didn`t I?