Ice queen

I haven't written in awhile. I figured because I had nothing much to say but now I think it's because I felt ashamed. Ashamed at how ridiculously happy I was for the most mundane of things. A kiss at five am, a good morning text at seven, a gentle hug at six or squishing four butts on a two butt couch. The thing about sleeplessness is that reluctance, pretence and barriers slip away and that finds my fingers tapping away.

In that way much the same as being an ice queen, It's the nickname that kind of stuck from the first time my partner saw me. My quiet, often and sadly related to the height of my heels and the state of my blow-out, is sometime doubly enforced with either 'you wish' or utter 'righteous indignation'. And though the first feels good, damn good at times, they both leave me cold. Icy, actually. Scared, misunderstood, aloft of saintly, it is all very much alone. And the more alone, the more closed, cold and snooty. It's not peeling back the layers, it is a veritable coal digging expedition.

When I'm confused, upset, lost or mad I retreat. If I can both physically and emotionally. Elsa and Carl Fredricksen (what can I say, I have kids..) ain't got nothing on me when I get going. Just this week I was so determined to be right, I left an ice trail and scared villagers in my wake. The thing is I don't even remember why.

Behind the ice queen is the truest form of me. Molten, soft and vulnerable. It takes alot for a flower to push through the snow and ice. It takes a lot for me to be my purest and most happy. To let my guard down, to communicate, to let both others in and me out. It's what I only now realise I didn't do enough of the first time round. It's also why the ice queen also has the nickname puddle. And that's because the kisses never stop at five am, even when I'm a sourpuss with crossed arms and pursed lips. Because if the text doesn't come by seven, it will be there by eight, funky me or not. Because arms draw me into that hug and hold me there until I'm soft. Because ''I could always see the molten behind the ice, from the first time I saw you". Guess what? I'd rather be a puddle..