But in all honesty...
I’d probably just cry.
Note to Self
Don’t save chat transcripts.
Why?
Because one day, you’ll stumble across one while doing something completely innocent, like sorting through old pieces for your writing portfolio. You’ll open it and read it, because your panache for procrastination and distraction is only surpassed by your masochism. You’ll grow angrier and angrier, and sadder and sadder, you may cry, your blood pressure will rise, and you may wish like hell that the person with whom you were conversing in that chat was standing right in front of you.
And then, Self, you realize that if that were to happen right at this moment, you’d reach a new level of indecision.
Because you cannot, no matter how carefully you arrange the scenario in your head, determine whether, when faced with the opportunity, you would cry and hug him and kiss him and cling to him like a life-preserver.
Or.
Would you look deeply into his eyes for a couple of seconds…and then kick him squarely in the balls.
sunshine is so deceptive.
Annie Hall?
whoa.
Got an hour to kill? Have some John Mayer.
I
have changed so much in the last two years that I no longer recognize the girl in the pictures, the girl in the posts…it’s not me. It’s a memory, and a vague one at that.
I’m okay with that. For the most part. Yes, I’m much more cynical, and I swear like a trooper…how did I go from being “the girl who doesn’t cuss” to the girl who drops F-bombs like they’re conjunctions? …and don’t get me started on the smoking…yes, it’s merely a now-and-then kinda thing, but my lungs hate me enough already, and suddenly I don’t care? …but hey, that’s just an added dimension to my personality, right? Sure. Instead of a Jane Austen or a Charles Dickens, I’ll be an Emily Bronte, thanks, with a dash of Faulkner…and some Stephen King, just for kicks.
I’d like to say I’m wiser, but I am most definitely not one teeny-tiny bit wiser…very possibly I am more rash in my decisions, and I lean precariously toward a devil-may-care attitude, which I’m trying to adjust before I end up in prison or something fun like that. I HAVE learned not to throw myself headlong into a relationship just because I quite frankly don’t give a shit anymore who I end up with. Yeah, not healthy behavior…I’m pretty certain I’ll just be a crazy cat lady, it’s safe and I’ve never been the girl who just HAS to get married and I love cats and I’m already crazy…so it works out.
I’m not okay with the fact that I cry at the drop of a hat, whereas two years ago it was impossible for me to cry even when I wanted to. Can’t there be a happy medium? Perpetual crying is highly unattractive in a female, in my own opinion at least, and it’s downright embarrassing that I can’t listen to a John Denver song without bursting into tears. Really now, I’m sooo much cooler than that, aren’t I?
I’m ridiculously apathetic, and sometimes I worry that I’ve given up on Life. On the other hand, I have moments of almost hysterical giddy happiness, for no apparent reason…it frightens me. Over top of this, though, is always a blanket of sadness…not quite despair, just a quiet, constant sorrow. I’ve learned to live with it, and it’s not that bad, really…most of the time.
Maybe it’s just growing up…I feel so terribly terribly unprepared for this big world. There are nights when I feel tiny and alone and so very stupid and awkward and clumsy and silly…and weak. I want desperately to reach out for something, someone to cling to…but there’s nobody there. Oh sure, there are friends I could call, a mom I could hug…but they have problems of their own, and I’M the strong one. It’s a facade I’ve built so carefully for myself for so long, I don’t know how to remove it…or even if I want to remove it. So I go to sleep, dream horrid dreams, and get up in the morning to resume my role of Atlas.
…And I pour myself into my writing, emotion and all…cynicism, humor, giddiness, sadness, despair…fear…so much fear. To create something worthwhile out of all this is my aim and my intent. And I will…I don’t doubt that I will.
but at what cost?
happiness is a grey cat
