Laws of Gravity

My head is bursting
with the joy of the unknown.
My heart is expanding a thousand fold.
Every cell,
taking wings,
flies about the world.
All seek separately
the many faces of my beloved.
/Rumi

I don’t know what to write. Most of the time, that’s how I start out anyway, so this shouldn’t be too much different. 

I have a lot to say, but I don’t think there would be much point in saying it. Nothing will change because of it, and I’d just feel like an idiot. I’m not used to putting myself out there, taking that risk. OTHER risks, I have no problem with, but I’m not about to make anyone uncomfortable, including me (holyrunonsentencebatman) just so I can get things off my chest. 

I’m fine. I can deal.

I feel like this is coming up on my last chance to make it in the real world. I wish I still had time to make stupid mistakes, take ridiculous risks and follow my heart. NOT doing that is making me feel useless and unwelcome.

I’m not used to being alone. I’m not good alone. I’m all RIGHT, surviving just fine, but there’s always the feeling of something missing. Stupid as it sounds, I’m just not whole without someone next to me. I’m perfectly happy, doing well, living life, but there’s definitely a hole there. I want to share life. Just like everyone else, of course. I realize this isn’t a revelation. This is nothing new. 

I just wish things could be different. As easy as they were when I was younger. I don’t mind the aching joints and insomnia, the wrinkles and mood swings; The worst part about growing up is not being able to do something drastic because you think it’s just the goddamn right thing to do, fuck everything else. It’s that “everything else” that has to matter most, and that’s a shame. 

Sometimes coming home feels wrong. I don’t know where I’m supposed to be, but it’s not here. 

so. ok. I’ve been drinking. so what. so have you. 

I’ve been looking up people I’ve slept with on facebook. So what. I’m human. 

I’ve been looking up people I’ve been friends with on facebook. So what. So have you. 

Here’s the thing. I am closely approaching 30. Which means that all of those aforementioned people

are having babies. 

The people I slept with, the people I did drugs with, the people I don’t even really remember from my graduating class in High School… they’re all having (OR HAVE HAD MULTIPLE) babies.

So.

I cannot have children. I don’t know if this has been mentioned before.

Probably not.

It’s not something I talk about.

It was the cause of my first divorce, and the result of a horrible awfulness in my late teens, scarred me for life literally and figuratively, and whatever whatever.

Anyway.

Babies.

Can’t have kids.

Makes me want them so much more, I think.

I am so proud of Emily and Rachel. (and Karly and Brad and Charlie and Vanessa and Courtney and Kelly and Kasi… and that’s all I can think about off the top of my head…) I can’t even express it. You all are so much the people I knew you could be in High School, and more. You are amazing parents, lovely pregnant women, and the envy of my heart. I love you all, and I wish you the best of futures, for you and your children. 

With that being said:

I have never felt such ugly envy as I have seeing a girl I used to know in High School, pregnant.

I know. I’m a pig; I should not project my awfulness. 

I should feel wonderful for her (which, of course, I do) and come to her baby shower and laugh at the stupid jokes and not worry that I’m the oldest one there. 

I am grateful for what I have, and mourn, of course, for what I’ve lost, but I still wonder what my place in the world is, RE: motherhood? I mean… Isn’t it about time? 

Or is MY BODY AND THE GREAT SPIRIT waiting for something? ‘Cause I’d like to be a bit clued in, here.

Ok.

I’m not ready to have a baby.

I’m not done living my life, and “BABY” means “STOP” in my language.

But.

The miracle it would be,

would be a miracle.

And, since Rachel Brown has already called DIBS on Emma; I will call her Lily, or him Judah. Or her Olivia. Or him Stephen. Or her Violet. Or him Joseph. Or her Rose.

Or her Amy. Because I said I would, a long time ago, and so did Andy, and he didn’t. I didn’t even know her.  

“Brothers On A Hotel Bed”

You may tire of me as our December sun is setting

because I’m not who I used to be
No longer easy on the eyes but these wrinkles masterfully disguise
The youthful boy below who turned your way and saw 
Something he was not looking for: both a beginning and an end 
But now he lives inside someone he does not recognize 
When he catches his reflection on accident 

On the back of a motor bike 
With your arms outstretched trying to take flight 
Leaving everything behind 
But even at our swiftest speed we couldn’t break from the concrete 
In the city where we still reside. 
And I have learned that even landlocked lovers yearn for the sea like navy men 
Cause now we say goodnight from our own separate sides 
Like brothers on a hotel bed 

I feel like someone’s died. 

I can’t care about my puppy. I can’t care about the good things that happened, because they’re no longer valid. I can’t afford to love something that I can’t have anymore. It’s not fair, so it’s not something I can hold on to.

It’s the death of love, of possibility. It’s the death of a perfect life that if I was smart, I would crave with every maternal instinct I could ever hope to have. 

There’s something very unfortunate in me that will not let me settle. I was happy. That should have been fine. I should have been satisfied. It’s unfortunate, and inconvenient, and just the way things fucking are that I have to be uncomfortable to be content. 

I feel like I need to grieve, but I don’t know if it would make me any better. I have never been good at feeling sorry for myself. I feel like I should break down. I feel like I should cry but I’m not sure I could stop myself and I don’t feel like I should be alone. Funny thing is, I’m utterly alone. It’s uncanny, like nothing else. Helpless, but fine. Throwing up my hands in frustration and “I give up, it doesn’t matter, I don’t care” and hurting so bad I should double over.

Years later, I’ll think back on this moment and probably remember how hard it was but that I got through it fine. I don’t want to have to wait. I want to be done now. 

I love you, Trey, I’m sorry we were so bad for each other. 

What a waste of time.