miles from nowhere
i just wrote a response to Jen's journal, because it got me thinking, as Jen's journal entries often do. the thing is, i'm not miserable anymore, just a little bit sad. i've been happy this summer. i don't know how to be that.
*
i have so much in my life. each person i live with is a gift, each friend also. this has been a summer of reckoning within myself. something has changed within me. (yes, something is not the same, i can hear you singing it to yourselves, you know who you are)
*
in our house we've talked about the Renaissance, and how this should be a time for one again, for ourselves and for the world, if it could be so. all i want is to listen to good music, read good books, have good conversations, do something to make the world a little less cruel. i want to love someone again, fully and honestly and be loved in return. i want to write. i want to finish what i start. i have been taking steps on this path all summer but there is still so much fear in my heart.
*
i become awkward and wrong around even those i love, a shrill version of some extroverted girl i don't know, self-absorbed and desperate and usually drunk. and i am her, but there is a doll inside the facade, and another doll inside her, and another, and the smallest figure is one shy and quiet who does nothing but watch.
my new york friends knew this alien version of me, and only that version, until we went to see Harold and Maude. we walked home in the rain afterward, and i couldn't speak. they were confused and curious but they didn't know that this silent, staggered girl was so much closer to a real person than the one they knew. Margaret, Maggie, me. they are not the same.
*
"to live a full and happy life, first you must sacrifice boredom. it is not always an easy sacrifice." -Richard Bach
*
there are too many goodbyes to be said in the coming weeks.
*
i have so much in my life. each person i live with is a gift, each friend also. this has been a summer of reckoning within myself. something has changed within me. (yes, something is not the same, i can hear you singing it to yourselves, you know who you are)
*
in our house we've talked about the Renaissance, and how this should be a time for one again, for ourselves and for the world, if it could be so. all i want is to listen to good music, read good books, have good conversations, do something to make the world a little less cruel. i want to love someone again, fully and honestly and be loved in return. i want to write. i want to finish what i start. i have been taking steps on this path all summer but there is still so much fear in my heart.
*
i become awkward and wrong around even those i love, a shrill version of some extroverted girl i don't know, self-absorbed and desperate and usually drunk. and i am her, but there is a doll inside the facade, and another doll inside her, and another, and the smallest figure is one shy and quiet who does nothing but watch.
my new york friends knew this alien version of me, and only that version, until we went to see Harold and Maude. we walked home in the rain afterward, and i couldn't speak. they were confused and curious but they didn't know that this silent, staggered girl was so much closer to a real person than the one they knew. Margaret, Maggie, me. they are not the same.
*
"to live a full and happy life, first you must sacrifice boredom. it is not always an easy sacrifice." -Richard Bach
*
there are too many goodbyes to be said in the coming weeks.