(no subject)
My life is literally absurd.
I hate my boss and the place I work, I love my kiddos and the people I work with.
I hate my apartment and this stupid city, I love my things and my wonderfully amazing boyfriend.
I hate myself and going back to college and exercise and old friends and trying to make new ones and how entirely stupidly awkward I feel inside my own skin.
I thought I was a grown up, because everyone treated me like one, because everyone acts like I am. But today, on the swings with a brilliant 2 year old on my lap, his head resting on my chest while our toes kicked the branches above us, I realized how small and young and silly I still feel. I'm 20 years old. I'm not even of legal drinking age yet and I've already had (and gotten over) my drinking problem. Sometimes I'll find blood in the tissues after I blow my nose and I remember my belly being blessedly empty and my fingers thrumming against my thighs and I miss being so totally irresponsible that I honestly didn't give a fuck is someone busted my blowing lines in the back of my debate class.
I am different now. The world twisted around my throat feels more like a necklace than a noose and I don't know how to live anymore without my own mortality breathing down my back.
I miss the San Jose summertime twined around my shoulders and the way my liver trembled for days after I OD'd on acetaminophen and the whisky I smuggled through with my toiletries and running out of the hotel sobbing and finding Paulie baking in the sun like a savior and I miss feeling rescued. I miss feeling surrounded by love and emotion and madness and all the vibration of so many hearts beating at once.
I miss the way Chicago tasted when I was 16 and falling in love with 2 boys at once and they were both so different and sweet and best friends and it all fell apart around my lost little head between the time I kissed the first and the time I kissed the second. I miss the way Eamon and Jared dealt with it all, their quick glances and whispered, stilted advice, their little princess twisting her tiny hands into the hearts of youth poetry's current kings.
I miss your house in June with the grass still wet under foot and the scissors in your hand sliding quietly along my neckline, those small fingers curled into question marks to mimic mine, the way we both looked like girls trying to make people forget them.
I miss the winter I starved myself for a boy who kept his guard up and his sleeves down, the first time Jess drew blood during a fight and I knew I'd both always miss her and never need her again, the days before I realized how shitty and awful my family is because I'd never pushed their delicate boundaries before.
There was a time when I was angry, spent 3 hours locked in the coat closet screaming my throat raw the morning after my big brother got arrested, and a time when I was sad, my wrists shaking in button down sleeves, couldn't wear mascara because it always ended up running down my cheeks.
I guess I just don't know what to be anymore. Just a girl with a million old stories and way too much stuff and no idea where I'll be living next month.
I hate my boss and the place I work, I love my kiddos and the people I work with.
I hate my apartment and this stupid city, I love my things and my wonderfully amazing boyfriend.
I hate myself and going back to college and exercise and old friends and trying to make new ones and how entirely stupidly awkward I feel inside my own skin.
I thought I was a grown up, because everyone treated me like one, because everyone acts like I am. But today, on the swings with a brilliant 2 year old on my lap, his head resting on my chest while our toes kicked the branches above us, I realized how small and young and silly I still feel. I'm 20 years old. I'm not even of legal drinking age yet and I've already had (and gotten over) my drinking problem. Sometimes I'll find blood in the tissues after I blow my nose and I remember my belly being blessedly empty and my fingers thrumming against my thighs and I miss being so totally irresponsible that I honestly didn't give a fuck is someone busted my blowing lines in the back of my debate class.
I am different now. The world twisted around my throat feels more like a necklace than a noose and I don't know how to live anymore without my own mortality breathing down my back.
I miss the San Jose summertime twined around my shoulders and the way my liver trembled for days after I OD'd on acetaminophen and the whisky I smuggled through with my toiletries and running out of the hotel sobbing and finding Paulie baking in the sun like a savior and I miss feeling rescued. I miss feeling surrounded by love and emotion and madness and all the vibration of so many hearts beating at once.
I miss the way Chicago tasted when I was 16 and falling in love with 2 boys at once and they were both so different and sweet and best friends and it all fell apart around my lost little head between the time I kissed the first and the time I kissed the second. I miss the way Eamon and Jared dealt with it all, their quick glances and whispered, stilted advice, their little princess twisting her tiny hands into the hearts of youth poetry's current kings.
I miss your house in June with the grass still wet under foot and the scissors in your hand sliding quietly along my neckline, those small fingers curled into question marks to mimic mine, the way we both looked like girls trying to make people forget them.
I miss the winter I starved myself for a boy who kept his guard up and his sleeves down, the first time Jess drew blood during a fight and I knew I'd both always miss her and never need her again, the days before I realized how shitty and awful my family is because I'd never pushed their delicate boundaries before.
There was a time when I was angry, spent 3 hours locked in the coat closet screaming my throat raw the morning after my big brother got arrested, and a time when I was sad, my wrists shaking in button down sleeves, couldn't wear mascara because it always ended up running down my cheeks.
I guess I just don't know what to be anymore. Just a girl with a million old stories and way too much stuff and no idea where I'll be living next month.