It is strange to me to have to be in a position to ask and or discuss what I write with someone else.
I never felt like I owed anyone anything, and even waist deep in the pseudo-relationships I was in I still felt alone.
Alone most of the time, to figure things out etc.
I sat on Cruz’s couch yesterday and vomited up a huge portion of my past. All stories I have told before but not all at once and not all connected in the way they flowed off my tongue this time.
I really hadn’t put it all together that way before. In a way that made some sense.
How I started dancing, almost losing Rowan, doing drugs to cope and having that make me feel even worse about myself if that was even possible. A detailed description of my decent. All of these things that happened to me that sound like bad chapters from novels.
Oh god I wanted to bolt so bad. Sitting there teary eyed, feeling dirty and vulnerable. But I stayed.
Told him I wanted to bolt.
I did it once before. Bolted I mean, he didn’t like it.
He said it hurt him, the things I had been through.
Back then, the girl I was, didn’t know any better.
I am tired of saying “ya that happened” about the bad stuff.
I would rather count my blessings.
They can be summed up in one sentence “I’m still here.”
I should have been a junkie, I should have been a hooker, I should have been a statistic. But I wasn’t.
Sisterwife called me ‘enduring’ once.
That is EXACTLY what I am.
Even though I couldn’t see it, something in me must have believed that there was something better than where I was.
I used to get scared when I was happy, when things were going too well.
I also used to put my happiness in the hands of others. Therefore they could take it away. Now it’s just mine, and when I fall or fly I own it.
It happened again. I got real fucking happy and I got worried.
I am still the sum of all my parts, all the things that happened to me, the good bad and the ugly.
He is too, but in the weirdest way.
He is the sum of the others subtracting the bad bits. The youth, the beauty, the sex, the energy multiplied exponentially. I had fleeting moments wherein I was feeling safe enough to tell some of them some of what I am. But with him it’s all of it, all of the time. I can’t help myself, it all comes tumbling out.
We’re seeing Tool and John Mayer 4 days apart. Resort vacation in the Dominican and a trip to a school in rural Cambodia. He is this weird juxtaposition that doesn’t conflict with mine.
He said last night that he is worried because it feels too good to be true.
Oh honey I know. I have been wandering a lot longer, feeling out of place and strange.
I’ve also realized, there is no such thing as too good, if you can keep yourself open to how limitless this life can be. If it can go as bad as it has, it can go the other way too.
I wrote once, not long ago actually, about the idea of luck and how I planned on appeasing the gods by asking ‘why not me?’ with a smirk.
I think they heard me and I am so very grateful.
He really does feel like winning the lottery.
This is just me, as is, and I believe you are just you and somehow it just works.
We’re both nice and easy.