Bored, and lonely, and wanting you to fill the void. But what came first, the stress or the stressing? I was whole to begin with. And now I feel incomplete. What was displaced to fit you, before you pulled away?
When you are born, your first breath is your whole life. By the time you are sitting on the beach at 25, each breath is one in a million. Fascinating.
When you’re 16, everything is relatively simple. Everything is simple, because your world view is based on a small collection of experiences collated together. You’re sure you know what you would do in any other situation. With new found freedom comes experimentation- doing the things you thought you’d never do, just to see what happens. And soon everything is shades of grey.
Flesh out the nutritional information.
Make the recipes clear and instructional.
Recook & photograph those 22 recipes.
Do it ASAP.
My life brings me a lot of pleasure, these days. I’m not as unhappy as I was. I like myself, mostly. I look in the mirror and am pleased with what I see.
I still fall out of balance, but I know how to bring myself back. Cook. Eat. Walk on the beach. Listen. I’m not as scared of myself as I was. Sometimes being quiet makes me feel better.
I have my avenues of expression. I have friends who listen, and spaces to write. My cat is steady and unwavering. I have enough. In some ways, I have more than enough, I am blessed.
I have things that bring me pleasure. A body, a pretty view, purple, comfortable underwear.
I cry sometimes. Usually because of other people. My struggles with them, my confusion. People disappoint me, I don’t know why. My mother didn’t like people; perhaps I recreate her reality. I don’t think my expectations are overly rigid, or even high. Maybe the problem is my hopes. I hope for a lot in relationship. Constant honesty, unwavering presence.
My mother should have named me detail, at least then some people would have paid attention.
I’m sure there’s some other guy who’d like a pretty skinny blonde flexible girlfriend who wants to have sex with him all the time and is intelligent and compassionate and understanding and makes him feel comfortable and has her own income and wants to stay home and have his babies and cook him amazing delicious food all day.
..with someone who hurts me.
You can’t make sense of an addiction from the inside out, but oh, I’m trying.
He lights me up, turns me on, makes me want to dance and play.
But he isn’t here. He is spending his time as he sees fit, elsewhere.
He is absent. I am distressed.
I am tired and beginning to hate myself. For my cowardice, and stubbornness, refusing to let go. More than let go, refusal to say no.
He returns, and pulls me in deeper. It makes no sense to refuse, now I am finally getting what I want.
Until I’m not.