Rob Breszney put forth yet another challenge. This time to write a letter to our future selves. Brain storming ideas for things we want to accomplish this year.
I do the opposite.
Each morning, I get up, make coffee, light a cigarette and immediately head to the On This Day app on my Facebook.
Caffeine, nicotine and a time capsule for breakfast.
I go back in time instead of planning ahead. But the past is so cozy and already figured out and compartmentalized and my sins are forgiven or washed away or just forgotten.
Not the worst way to start the day.
Reminds me that I was in some really dark places, and some really beautiful ones too.
I gotta be honest. I don’t miss farm spring with the floods and the mud and the goose bites. Mind you a lot of those things could have been avoided if I was in charge.
I let a lot of life happen to me.
It is not a good habit.
I don’t know how to stick up for myself at all. I am always afraid I will get yelled at or left. So I am complacent in how I am treated. Until I am not. I hit a wall and I’m done.
Houston, we have a problem.
Him: You know what you deserve
Me: Do I?
Him: I wonder sometimes honestly if you know your worth….
Me: You know I don’t
Him: I wish you could see yourself through my eyes for just a moment
Me: Me too
Him: That’s why you go to these boys that don’t step up…Baby you are so fucking amazing….you have a mind second to none….you have style and grace and the sex drive of a goddess….and a body that should be fucked daily….and cuddled….and have someone that pushes your mind….but I can tell you all day….until you see it……
Me: I love you. Thank you
Him: I love you….I’ve always got your back.
I think that is my wish. Or my brain stormy idea of what I want to accomplish. When people talk to me like Habibi just did up there, I want to believe them. And I want to believe them because I know it’s the truth, not just because I value his opinion. We dated ages ago and super briefly, he has no agenda or reason to blow sunshine up my ass, other than I am feeling a bit dark right now and he sees it. In the grand scheme of things he listens to me babble and whine way more than I listen to him. I look back on so many conversations and I cringe when I see that he came to me to talk and I somehow turn it around and make it all about me. But, he loves me anyways.
I fuck up. Lawds yes I do. Why can’t I love me anyways? I love others who fuck up. My middle name is Forgiveness.
I try so hard to give them what they need.
But what about me?
Sometimes I need things.
Why is that so hard to say out loud?
I don’t need much. Food, snuggles, sex, a walk on the beach, some texts containing dirty memes and a forehead kiss now and again..
I wonder if men think that I am playing some kind of game, wherein I say and behave in a way that dictates I am not complicated but really, I’m just reeling them in and my secret identity is Super High Maintenance Girl.
The other shoe isn’t going to drop.
I hate shoes. See above where I would rather just be barefoot on the beach.
I started thinking ‘one day someone will appreciate me’ then I stopped.
I think as long as I appreciate me, my thoughts, actions/reactions, my way of doing things and feeling things. As long as I enjoy my own ride and find pleasure, profundity and meaning in the things I do and feel. Then ultimately everything is alright.
(Notes I leave myself on Facebook)