New Life

I woke up incredibly disoriented. Where am I? Where was I? What am I doing, what am I late for, what am I supposed to be doing?

I've been sleeping on a twin air mattress in Em's living room for two nights, my dog joins me every few hours, sometimes curled under the blankets, other times stretched across the carpet. I love her. I miss her already and she's right in front of me. I feel guilty and nostalgic for months when she lived in the same place, with the same walk, and the same food. Three days in a row I've given her Dog Xanax and watched her become a muted version of herself, to stop the shaking, to calm her down. I wonder if I'm fit to take care of a dog. I wonder if I should be searching for a long term foster, if I should Give Her Away.

Today I finished a scarf and almost finished another. I created two prototype books of poetry for the Magic Surprise that is on its way. I spent money at a thrift store and more money at a craft store and wondered if anyone will ever buy My Art. Is that a thing I have?

In the evening we got horrible news and I watched it come out through thumbs pushing, through labored breathing, through tears and tears. We had a bonfire and put it out. We sat together and laughed. We were human.

I am stuck in a place – incredibly free and terribly lost.

And I wanted to say something about men, the patterns I have, how much I love art pouring through fingers and souls; how much I'm drawn to the Not Quite Traditional, how I love the people that make me ask questions, how good I am at listening to lectures, or pretending to listen. How Good Kissers are the end all be all for my mental clarity.

…and if I stopped that? And if I looked at what's in front of me and realized He never asked questions and remembered He isn't really interested and owned up to the fact that I was just there; I just showed up; I could have been anyone and he would have behaved the same. Why does everything feel repeated? Why does no one feel like they are uniquely responding to Me?

I talked to a man about children and realized how much disbelief I hold that I will ever find someone to co-parent with. He asked me if a move would need to be to a place where I could Find Someone and all I could repeat is I lived in Arkansas for six years. No, I am not trying to Find Someone. There is no one to find. I am fickle, I am demanding, I am adventurous, I am eager, I am always racing against myself in an exhausting race. No one knows why I'm running. No one asks questions. I think they're scared of me. I think I'm not attractive? I think that I am one charge of magnet and everyone else is the other, forever some satisfying bubble between us, forever no potential to stick.

An interesting thing is what happened when I shaved my head: less interest, less attention, less conversation. I think people are afraid of me; I think people are intimidated by me; I think I am breaking some expectation and no one knows how to cross the glass. Maybe no one wants to?

I am here. I will shave it again. I still like your fingers on my neck, I still like your voice swimming through thunderstorms, I still listen. I believe that most of the time I could be replaced by anyone else and it wouldn't make a difference.

I'm 30, is what I said sobbing to Sally in the airport, I'm supposed to have my life together – something I didn't even know I believed, something I didn't even realize I was worried about. I'm living off of other peoples' kindness. I have no interest in Finding A Job. I do not think – I just don't know what's coming.

I'm content here, just Learning A New Existence. Just hanging with myself.

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