Today I was having a particularly self-absorbed day. I was diligently stewing in distaste for the inordinate amount time I’m required to spend with myself. In addition to my self loathing over substantial writer’s block, I’m a bridesmaid in my friends wedding in 3 weeks and I’m convinced my arms look like they belong on a chubby baby.
I theorize on why I return each day…
When the morning comes, you have crust in your eyes and your throat is bothering you because you forgot to chug water the night before. You have to pee, as you always do, and you feel exposed without your bra and panties.
For the first time in a while, I didn’t feel so alone.
I was in class when I heard you died.
I love our conversations that are so simple and personal. They remind me of the freedom I feel at the beach, floating on the waves and gazing at the sun heating the Pacific.
It pained me every time I hung out with him. How could
something—someone—my heart wanted, be so close, but yet so impossibly
far?
We should be together because I love every side of you. Happy-you, cranky-you, drunk-you, upset-you, passionate-you.
Think that nothing can be gone, and still be defined, not by what IS said, but what isn’t.
As humans we are taught and conditioned to behave as though we have everything together — even when we don’t.