Moving

Oh. My. God. I've been up for exactly 20 minutes and I've already reached my limit. I might hurt someone. I might hurt myself. I might just leave and not come back. Something terrible will happen. I'm sure of it!

This is what its like to come home:

We are in the process of moving. I was trying to clean all my laundry today before the washer and dryer get moved. I forgot about a load of laundry in the dryer when I went out with my friends. When I came home, the clothes are no where to be found.

Mom is slumped over the sink trying to do dishes with her eyes closed, I guess. Dad is telling mom to go to bed while suggesting I look for my clothes in all the places I've already looked for my clothes. He also gives me reasons why he couldn't possibly know where the clothes are. Mom mumbles incoherently as she fills the same glass with water over and over again.

I rifle through every basket of clothes laying around. I check the dryer again. I open closet doors and check my room and search the floors and open boxes. No clothes.

My brother and his girlfriend are already at the new house. Maybe they know. Maybe they took my clothes? He calls them. Apparently someone took my clothes out of the dryer and put them on the floor. There is nothing on the floor now. There are no clothes in my room. The laundry baskets are full of other peoples clothes. The only place I cannot investigate is the washing machine.

The washing machine is running and it has a locked door that will not unlock before the cycle finishes. Its on the final spin. I ask my father what clothes are in the washing machine. He claims the clothes are the ones everyone wore while moving today. I want to look at them so I stand in the laundry room and stare at the machine, waiting for it to finish. Dad sways, watching me watch the washer. I suppose he grew tired of waiting so he hits the cancel button on the washing machine. Now, the door is STILL locked and the only option is to restart the washing cycle. I tell him this.

His first plan of action is to repeatedly hit the cancel button. That seems to do nothing at all but the alcohol has long diminished his reasoning abilities so he hits the button some more. And more. Finally I point out that this particular course of action seems to have no effect. I'll just have to start the cycle again. I'll just have to wait another half hour to find out if my clothes are in the washing machine (probably mixed with THEIR clothes, probably with dish soap instead of laundry detergent, probably not separated by color, probably with someones ink pen or cigarettes floating in the water) or if they just disappeared completely. My colors. All my colors. My pretty, pretty clothes.

I am so unhappy right now. This shouldn't be this difficult.

My anger must be apparent in my sigh or my crossed arms or the violence in which I punch the start button because dad yanks the power cord from the socket and throws it to the ground. He tells me how tired he is and how early he had to get up and exactly how much he has done for me today. I don't respond. The washing machine would have been done by now if he hadn't hit that stupid button. This is clearly not my fault. Now, with no power, he pulls on the washing machine door. Its locked still. He plugs it back in. Locked. He hits the cancel button over and over and over again. I tell him I'll just restart the washer. He goes away.

I prepare to run the shortest cycle possible. I have to change about three settings. I hit the start button. Just in case, I try the cancel button again. The door opens.

Inside the washing machine I see clothes of absolutely every color. And there, my colors. They don't smell like laundry detergent. And the machine is so full of clothes that they wont come out easily. And somehow everything is a little grayer. And this yellow one is now covered in blue spots. And oh, there are the washcloths they used to clean the walls. Nice. And my clothes. My once pretty, pretty clothes.

It shouldn't be this difficult. And thats not even all of it.

We should eat valconoes for breakfast together.

I like to write. That doesn't mean I need to be articulate all the time.

I'm joyful. That doesn't mean I have to be happy all the time.

So anyway, I'm kind of unhappy right now. And who am I going to tell about it? I'm a liar. Thats what I am. Isn't that what it is when I pretend to be okay and happy when really I'm feeling other things inside? Isn't it lying when I don't tell my own friends how I'm feeling when I'm in the same room with them? When I put on that smile and they don't see the truth behind it? Yep. I'm a liar. But I hate confrontation. Its so much easier to just pretend and then stop hanging around. Thats what I tell myself. But recent experience has taught me that if I just tell him, everything is magically better. He has a freakin invisible magic wand that fixes my feelings. But instead I sat quietly and tried my best to keep it all off my face.

I don't know what would have been the best option. Who ever does?

One day it will happen and I wont have any idea until it hits me in the side of the head.

Sorry I wasnt very exciting tonight.

I'm unhappy. Its not like a state of being but rather an emotion I'm experiencing right now. I'm unhappy. I would say that I'm mad but mostly its hurt and disappointed and mad just seems to be the defense mechanism to cover up the wounds of hurt and disappointed without actually fixing anything. So I'm trying not to be mad. I'm trying to just fix the hurt and disappointed.

Before, my ideas about how to fix hurt and disappointed were to take away the opportunities for future hurt. But that means putting distance between myself and others. That is safety and that is loneliness too. I don't want to do that anymore.

Most of the time I am pretty easily "fixed" when I'm upset. I just need to know that the other person didn't mean to hurt me. I just need to know that they care enough to want to fix it. But in this situation, the other person doesn't seem to care at all that I'm hurt and they did it. And that hurts worse. Now what do I do? Am I supposed to stay friends? Because I don't know how to let this go without some kind of confrontation. Without some kind of resolution.

Instead of it getting better with time, I'm feeling worse. I'm no actress and its wearing me out to pretend to be okay when really I'm upset. I'm upset. I'm upset. I'm upset. At least I can type it here. At least I can be honest right here. Because I don't want to show what I'm feeling to people who aren't responsible for the problem. What can they do about it? And the person who is responsible doesn't care. So I feel like a liar and I'm not very good at that.

I want to be treated with respect. Like an adult. I want to be given the opportunity to decide how to react instead of having others decide what I would do, draw the wrong conclusion, and avoid me. I want to have relationships with people who want to talk to me and see me as frequently as I want to talk to them and see them. I want to be able to give my friends equal amounts of attention without suspicion. I want to spend time in groups and time in pairs because I think people change depending on who else is in the room. Mostly, I want reciprocity.

So I'm not happy right now. Its like a bug bite I just can't scratch. Its not the end of the world. Its not even a big deal. But I don't like disharmony. I don't like conflict, even if its just within myself. I just want it to be fixed, one way or another, so I can go back to worrying about something else.

Good enough.

I'm not gorgeous.

And when I dance its kind of awkward and silly.

I'm only funny when I don't mean to be.

I don't like any of your favorite movies or music.
But I was hoping that maybe I am pretty enough for you.

And perhaps my smile will make up for my lack of grace.

Somehow the contrast between my forward manner and bashfulness

and between my knowledge and experience

would intrigue you enough to make you move closer to me.

Because sometimes I say the wrong thing.

And I don't ever know which step to take next.

But it seems you don't know whats going on either.

So maybe you can forgive my inattention to detail

and my sensitive nature

and learn to crave my laughter and touch.

Because I'm never going to be perfect

and I know you aren't either.

I was thinking we could be the best thing that ever happened

to one another

and call that good enough.

Now what?

I lost 105lbs. Then, I stopped working so hard for several weeks. Nothing happened. I didn't lose any more weight. I didn't gain any weight.

So, I'm done with that now. I miss losing weight. It was my fault completely. And it was fun, I'm not going to lie. Because weight loss is a lot of work and attention and I put my attention elsewhere.

I want to be skinny. So I'm getting back to work.

These problems won't go away. They've been knocking me sideways.

I need to go to the grocery store. My living space is a mess. I need to find a better paying job. My credit card debt is horrendous. My laundry is all over the place. I want to be dating someone. I'm going to have to move out soon. My student loan payments start this month. I'm not losing weight like I should. I stay up too late to get up this early.

I dreamed about getting text messages from you

saying things your lips never do

Its easier when I don't want things because then I just enjoy whats happening without worrying about anything else. Now I want things and I'm impatient. So very, very impatient.

I want someone who:

I was alone all day long and I hate that. So very much. And so with my free time I thought about what kind of person my Person will be. It seems like everyone has a list. I don't really have a list. I never know what I want until I see it. But I'm going to try anyway.

I want someone (who):

is reliable, consistent, and trustworthy.

I have to keep up with.

active, healthy, and strong.

listens and talks openly.

smiles and laughs often.

is kind of nerdy.

will want the compliments and phone calls and attention as much I like giving them.

is shockingly honest and transparent.

optimistic.

doesn't mind all of my bad parts.

has bad parts I don't mind so much either.

will handle the finances and pick out the furniture and decide where we go to dinner.

is adventurous and spontaneous at least some of the time.

leaves me random love notes on the napkins and the bathroom mirror and in the sock drawer.

I can sing to.

challenges me.

open to trying new things.

doesn't yell at me when he's angry with me.

feels honored to be loved by someone like me.

I feel honored be loved by.

Why aren't you my Person yet?

Countdown

I have six minutes before I have to go to work. I don't like being alone. Last night I was plagued with terrible dreams and it makes me feel unhappy this morning. Yesterday was amazing. I got a wake-up call from Jeremy and the fun didn't stop until I had to leave to go to bed. I like my friends.

Four minutes. And my brain is working so poorly that I couldn't spell minutes the second time although I spelled it the first time and it was right in front of my face. I kind of want to be around people right now. But only certain people. On the other hand, its one of those moods where I could spend the whole day alone just stewing. I don't want to stew.

Three minutes. And I keep thinking about all these things I should be doing but I keep doing what I want to do instead. I've done what I have to do for far too long. I'm ready to be irresponsible and impulsive and happy.

Two minutes. I've survived far more than I think you could ever know. I know the scars aren't visible on the surface but it makes me worry that if I ever let anyone close enough to see them, they'll run away. I know how to be healthy and happy as just me, but I don't know how to fix the damage already done. What do I do?

No minutes. And I keep typing anyway because I don't want to go to work. I don't want to crawl back into that bed of unhappiness either. I think I would like to rewind and do things over again. Maybe things that matter to me don't matter to anyone else so much. I don't know. But I'm a sensitive creature even though I don't show it and I'm feeling sad. Dang it.

Minus one. I'll be nearly late for work if I don't leave now. I don't want to leave. I don't want to stay here. And the people I want to see are all sleeping.

You are:

The flavor of grape Gatorade in my mouth

and the satisfaction of muscles all worn out.

Terrifying rock faces under my toes

and the anticipation that gets me through the day.

Contentment at just driving in your car

and the laughter that makes my abs sore.

A blush spreading up over my cheeks

and eyes I could keep looking into with questions.

My lunch break flying by as I talk talk talk to you

and the mirror of my deepest insecurities and fears.

The beauty and attention I wish I could possess

and the give and take of verbal, physical, and emotional support.

The balance and opposing force that makes it work

and a lesson in positive affirmation and self awareness.

Sunny afternoons around and around the park

and the safe place I know I can put all my worries.

The play of muscles moving over one another under the skin

and the rhythmic pounding my feel against the pavement.

Tears of laughter rolling down my cheeks 

and too much bubble gum in my mouth.

The tug of war inside that makes me feel like falling down

and the sudden misplacement of gravity.

The worry over micro-expressions and inadvertent body language

and the puzzle I can't quite put together.

The reason I run out of clean laundry too often

and the mess all over my bedroom floor.

Sleepy mornings when I've stayed up far too late

and my sudden co-dependence that makes me hate alone.

The topic of conversation whenever you aren't in the room

and the place my mind wanders off to in the quiet moments.

My favorite part of the day.

My dear, dear friends.

And now I have a phone call!

I slept FOREVER last night and I'm still sleepy today. I don't know whats wrong with me.

I have to go to the grocery store and get breakfast food.

And I'm sunburned.

I don't really have anything important to say I was just alone and wish there was someone here to talk to and there isn't so instead I'll type things. Sigh. 

One day someone will decide he likes me enough to live with me and then he'll have to listen to me talk when I come home from work. Unless he's at work then. Or he doesn't want to listen. But then, if he didn't like listening to me we wouldn't be living together. So thats that.

The weight loss has slowed down a lot and it stresses me out. I keep working hard. It keeps being slow. What is up? 

I fell asleep with my make up and clothes on last night. Now its all over my pillows. The make up, not the clothes. And I dreamed that I went back in time to 1991 and I couldn't do anything because my credit cards weren't valid and my money was too new and the computers sucked and no one had cell phones and the boxes on the shelves at the grocery store looked all funny and outdated. Weird. And then I had another dream that we were going to do a full moon ritual at Roosevelt school which, in my dream, had been abandoned and then taken over by crazy people. We wanted to cast a protection spell on it to guard against fire because in my dream I had dreamed that it burned down. Then, we were going to cast a protection spell on ourselves using the great, strong spirit of the school and the ground upon which it stood and it would work because of how much we loved the building. Weirder.

My dear, dear friends:

We don't take pictures.

And we never have a plan.

Sometimes I make you do things you don't want to.

And sometimes you do the same for me.

Occasionally, you say something that hurts me.

Of course, I'm insensitive and selfish.

I probably call you too often.

You surprise and delight me constantly.

I'm afraid to show you just how much I could need you.

We do stupid things sometimes.

You make me want to better. Always better.

I analyze things too much and get confused.

Who you are is completely beautiful and absolutely enough.

I don't know what comes next.

These memories we make keep me sane when I'm alone too long.

When you aren't with me, I tell everyone else about you. All good things.

I worry too much.

Sometimes I want you all to myself.

Sometimes I want you to have me all to yourself.

I really, really care what you think and what you have to say and what it means when you have that look on your face.

Occasionally we are so close I think we must be the same person.

Other times the distance between us frightens me.

I already miss you.

I have this crazy idea that if I could just hold onto all the inside jokes you would see just how much we can make together.

The compliments are all lies. I think you are so much more amazing than these stupid words could possible convey.

You make me hate sleep and work. I used to like those things.

I keep wondering what on earth I could do for you to make you feel as good as I feel just getting to spend time with you.

You make me laugh until my eyes water and my abs hurt and I can't breathe right.

I want to tell you everything. All of it. But I wonder if you could handle that?

I want to hear everything. All of it. I could handle it and love you more afterwards for it.

I do love you. Just as you are right now.