I miss these days
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Flames and Fallacies
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Some people believe that when an entrance is markedly unguarded, surely there is nothing of worth inside; that when the path is aligned and illuminated, there could be no possible treasure at the end. Presumably, if the riddle is easy, if the task undaunting, there is no satisfaction to be gained from the effort. As such, all casual invitations are mistaken for reckless abandon.
I find these assumptions sad, and yet unrelentingly universal. It speaks to a dispiriting cynicism; a general distrust of genuine human nature. This is a malady we all share; a natural self defense mechanism. I simply find it disappointing that so often this misinterpretation, this self-preserving fear, presents itself so quickly in our lives.
I myself tend to wait for the fire, or at the very least, the signs of smoke, before I presume I will be burned.
When you have watched death, not just seen, or experienced it; but watched it’s wrath in agonizing detail, you become a different creature. Your eyes never see quite the same again. You watch your life from the back of your mind, where a clock is always ticking, incessant in its reminder that this is all just a play; your part just a few short lines, and soon, you too will exit the stage.
I have my own flaws; all self-inflicted obstacles that I have not yet achieved the strength to overcome, but then, we are all works in progress and I am no different. I used to keep the world out, preserving myself within myself, a statue of a woman. I have since razed those walls; the world has served me a slice of everything, and there is nothing I will not take from its plate now, if only once.
And so I take you. I take you with ease and complete acceptance. I take you because I want you, because the clock is ticking and tomorrow you may be gone. I take you in an earnest attempt to know you. And you run from me…to save yourself.
But I am not the fire, darling.
Going through the motions
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I wake up, sober, which happens now with alarming frequency, and find my way to the bathroom with much effort and more expletives. I have no mind to brush my hair and to be brutally honest, I only bother with the teeth to avoid another harrowing visit to the dentist. There are only so many ways a girl wants to be drilled and that, surely, is not one of them. Makeup; most likely not. I pop some plastic on my fingers and saturate my sweater with my signature scent. It’s a two minute process from dream to door though lately I linger, for no reason in particular, more an effort to enjoy the morning. Wasted energy; there are some things you cannot train yourself to like. Smoke in hand, after a heavy dose of albuterol, I log into MySpace which is always an exercise in futility, as if one day, much unlike the 798 previous, there will be something there of consequence, of substance, of anything other than one night stands and far away friends and people whose names I probably never knew. Today is no different; sign off, stand up, say farewell to the cats who never even know I’m gone, save for an empty water bowl from time to neglectful time. And so begins another day…
I left a woman waiting
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At some point, my job became my career.
At some point, I started needing two full days to recover from one night of drinking.
At some point, the thought of a weekend with nothing planned started sounding really good.
At some point, it became quite okay to spend 4 out of 5 nights alone, in my pajamas, watching movies, smoking, knitting.
Each year has given me, along with a rash of shit, trauma, and tragedy, a growing appreciation for the knowledge and grace acquired simply by being alive. I maneuver most situations with relative ease, stepping over my own tongue less and less, though I don’t have nearly the same luck with inanimate objects. I find it easier to give without exhausting myself, and easier to take, finally gracious for the things I know I deserve, often able to completely leave behind the plaguing doubt of self worth. I am starting to understand that sometimes, bridges do need to be burned. Sometimes, there is no looking back. There is very little in this world that is irreplaceable. And while I will never tolerate cruelty, towards me or in me, I am learning, without any doubt at all, that sometimes, sometimes, you just need to be a bitch to survive. It’s been an interesting journey to say the least. I’ve come full circle many times over and I know by now that this period of quiet will not last. It’s just another valley; the hill will surely come.
