I've just spent more than an hour looking at design sites, featuring homes that are flooded with light and good taste, and i am sitting in my very cold, unstylish, basement.
We've been rolling right along here:working, watching tv, going to classes, judah-- so much demands lots of my attention. especially project runway!
i sometimes think i need to write a letter to my dad, that i need to get my thoughts out on paper. But seriously, would i ever finish that letter? it would be so long!
I have even tried just putting a few thoughts down, but one thought just leads to another and i can't seem to organize my thoughts. i am not satisfied with them when i re-read them.
I know he must be so sad and angry at me. I feel bad about that.
i'm sad we're broken up. i am sad in a way that... if i really think about it. . .i can start to cry and stop breathing and hear my heart beating in my ears.
my life is so f*ing messy- it is. and most of the time i am so frustrated that it is. i haven't come to terms with my life being what it is. I haven't come to terms with myself because, you and i both know, i am the reason that my life is the way that it is. I am profoundly messy- loosest of ends and feeling so threadbare-- i will not be able to cover my wreckage with my best efforts.
and i don't feel that my path is heading anywhere anymore. or, maybe, i feel i have been on this special and trying path to get somewhere but that when i get there, wherever There is, i will not have what i need to make it my There. I do not have the goods. I don't.
i guess i am rethinking the rethinking. What was the question? What i am doing with Chris?!
Chris is the first time i ever knew something didn't add up about me. Before him, everything made enough sense. But my falling for Chris was just weird, from the leftest of fields, he is just Other than anyone would have had for me and even i sometimes still wonder at what he means. Anti-thesis of all my former ideas. Opposite soul-fabric. Suddenly i have married a Dreamer.
Everything happened at night.
I can recall the privacy of my room, i can recall not wanting to be interrupted there. I can remember the retreat into my own world: mirrors and windows. shade and trees. i can remember nights on the picnic bench in front of my house and stars shining through the branches. My night and private self chose her husband. This is not a fictionalization, an enhancement through hyperbolic imagery. This is the closest thing to Truth i can tell about it.
That very private self i barely saw because She was not as yet connected to anyone or anything. Only in my room. only on my own. An un-self-concsious self .But now...
The choice to marry Chris was the first move toward being let out of that tower of privacy.
And sometimes, i just want to go back.
The person i was before Chris had no real hopes or dreams but I didn't have to worry about anything. Now i worry about everything.
i try not to.