I wrap a scarf, bright blue, red, and yellow, around my neck. I just bought it at Macy's. I didn't think a guy could understand my need to find that one scarf, in a store a block long, 9 floors high, amongst all the others, that was just perfect for me. But somehow, he did.
So we leave Macy's and merge into the traffic flow of New Yorkers, on their way to skyscraper offices and little shops. We stop at Starbucks, and a million delicious aromas fill my head. A hot chocolate warms me, and somehow, the taste of that drink, the scarf around my neck, the people in that cafe... it was all being memorexed in my head, to save for later. All the fine details.
My search continues for this certain hat, that I am sure I will find somewhere in the many little shops in Chinatown, or in one of the big store windows in Times Square. I don't know what is so important about finding this hat, but I'm sure it will come to me. Maybe it's just wanting to take home something concrete from this day -- memories only get you so far.
He lets me nuzzle under his arm as we walk, to escape a little bit of the wind that seems like it will pick me off my feet any moment. And we walk and walk... until the tall buildings have disappeared from site, and the crowd has thinned, and the stars sprinkle the sky. I feel like it's just me and him in this night, in this magical city. I wish this night could turn into tomorrow... and tomorrow into next month...
In the hotel, on the bed is funny-looking because it is too short, next to the window that opens up to... a brick wall, we have sex. Something is different this time... something is off. I can't place my finger on it. I think there are these times in a relationship, unavoidable really, where one of you is making love to the other, but the other is just... fucking. Does that make sense? I guess i never really noticed it before, but he makes love with his eyes closed. And for the first time ever, i wondered... what exactly is he picturing right now? And i wanted so badly for him to open his eyes, but he didn't. And then it was over.
We saw a play. I think there is this thing, which females do -- at movies and such -- they get so sucked into the story, that they start to find all these meanings... and they think the guy should see these underlying meanings too. But the guy... he just sees... a movie. Why do we women do that? There's me, watching the Beast torture himself over Belle's love, and thinking... Goddammit. Why can't men ever just say what they're feeling?
Everything lately has been so... strange. I've had to figure out a way to fit in to a new uniform, a new crowd of co-workers, a new life. I've had to adjust to giving up on lost hopes, and focusing on what i have left. I've had to learn acceptance... and its been the toughest lesson i've ever had to face. I've almost given up on so many things, and sometimes, i cant even face myself in the mirror, because i'm afraid of what I'll see. Other times, i look at that girl in the mirror, and wonder... what the hell changed? Over these past couple years, what changed so much. What is it that I used to have that made me feel like a goddess... and now i just feel like a failure.
I'm still trying to figure out why people do what they do. It's this fault of mine that I can't seem to get over. I just can't understand how some people can be so heartless. I keep forgetting I have people in my life who make the pain worth getting over... people like my sister, who i dont think really hates me as much as she would like for me to think she does, and my old boss who still emails me from time to time to make sure i'm ok, and this guy in my life, who i love more than is even possible... who walks by me, uncomplaining, into 300 different stores, looking for some stupid hat... which i never find anyway. Like so many questions i have... unanswered... answers i never find, but its ok that i spent all that time looking.
But what is so great about New York? We're still just us, the out-of-towners, who gawk at the tall buildings and take pictures of EVERYTHING and buy things like, that big ridiculously-huge candy bar that was $4.00 that i bought just because it said "Times Square" on it. Well, i'm just a girl, and we need souvenirs like this to timestamp important events in our life... even though we replay these moments in our head at least a thousand times a day, we still feel the need to buy little keepsakes to remember it... and my room is just full of reminders of my past, and even though most are painful to look at, i can't bring myself to get rid of any of them.
I've heard people say many times, its so weird that we can remember a day, a minute, a moment, 5, 10 years ago with the clarity of a digital photograph -- yet we can't remember what we wore yesterday, or what we had for breakfast. My uncle happened to mention that at Thanksgiving dinner, and Danny just looked at him and said "You don't remember breakfast because its not significant to you. You remember what matters." And my uncle read my mind when he said "That's the best reason I ever heard."
I wake up at the same time every morning, without needing the alarm. I feed my cats, jump in the shower, and make myself Orange Spice hot tea. I hate that i have a routine. I dont like my day predefined. My mother used to make me lay out my clothes for the next day on my bed the night before, so i would be ready for school on time. But i dont want everything in my life to be so "layed out." I want to try on two dozen outfits in the morning, and get frustrated, and show up fashionably late. Sometimes, i skip the Orange Spice tea. Raspberry or black berry ... i need to add flavor to my life. It can't be all the same. After all this is done, I crawl back into bed, fully dressed, and wrap my arms around him as he sleeps. Sometimes he groans and turns away... but usually he smiles through his sleep, and that's all i need to start my day.
At the end of the day, I can't say I have nothing to come home to. I'm not happy unless the pitter-patter of eight little paws on the stairs is the first thing i hear when i walk in the door... somehow, those little furry faces always look like they are smiling... and hell, someone's got to smile... we cant all hate the world.
All this... i have all this. And yet sometimes, i feel so goddamn alone. I hate looking in that mirror and not recognizing that girl... her hair is still the same shade of blond, and her eyes are still big and bright... but she's a stranger these days. You know when you catch yourself in a daze and someone will say sarcastically, "Don't look so happy!" and sometimes i want to say "Who goes around just grinning like a fool?" but then i realize, there probably are people out there like that, who are just happy, always... without a reason to be... without all the cares of the world resting on their shoulders. We passed a young couple sitting on the sidewalk, covered in a tattered blanket, somewhere on a Manhatten sidewalk, and my heart broke for them because i know that they weren't sitting in the freezing cold on that cold cement sidewalk just to enjoy the view... but despite not knowing if they would be alive or dead tomorrow, they looked so content... sitting there wrapped in each other's frail arms... and i wished for a moment i knew what that felt like... bliss.
So i wrap this scarf... bright blue, red, and yellow around my neck, and i go about my day doing all the things that define me, however unnoticeable and insignificant, and i hope to find that hat someday, which will be just perfect for me, so that i can just walk around smiling, and people will marvle at how happy i am for no reason, except that i'll really be smiling because i've finally found my hat... and myself.
So we leave Macy's and merge into the traffic flow of New Yorkers, on their way to skyscraper offices and little shops. We stop at Starbucks, and a million delicious aromas fill my head. A hot chocolate warms me, and somehow, the taste of that drink, the scarf around my neck, the people in that cafe... it was all being memorexed in my head, to save for later. All the fine details.
My search continues for this certain hat, that I am sure I will find somewhere in the many little shops in Chinatown, or in one of the big store windows in Times Square. I don't know what is so important about finding this hat, but I'm sure it will come to me. Maybe it's just wanting to take home something concrete from this day -- memories only get you so far.
He lets me nuzzle under his arm as we walk, to escape a little bit of the wind that seems like it will pick me off my feet any moment. And we walk and walk... until the tall buildings have disappeared from site, and the crowd has thinned, and the stars sprinkle the sky. I feel like it's just me and him in this night, in this magical city. I wish this night could turn into tomorrow... and tomorrow into next month...
In the hotel, on the bed is funny-looking because it is too short, next to the window that opens up to... a brick wall, we have sex. Something is different this time... something is off. I can't place my finger on it. I think there are these times in a relationship, unavoidable really, where one of you is making love to the other, but the other is just... fucking. Does that make sense? I guess i never really noticed it before, but he makes love with his eyes closed. And for the first time ever, i wondered... what exactly is he picturing right now? And i wanted so badly for him to open his eyes, but he didn't. And then it was over.
We saw a play. I think there is this thing, which females do -- at movies and such -- they get so sucked into the story, that they start to find all these meanings... and they think the guy should see these underlying meanings too. But the guy... he just sees... a movie. Why do we women do that? There's me, watching the Beast torture himself over Belle's love, and thinking... Goddammit. Why can't men ever just say what they're feeling?
Everything lately has been so... strange. I've had to figure out a way to fit in to a new uniform, a new crowd of co-workers, a new life. I've had to adjust to giving up on lost hopes, and focusing on what i have left. I've had to learn acceptance... and its been the toughest lesson i've ever had to face. I've almost given up on so many things, and sometimes, i cant even face myself in the mirror, because i'm afraid of what I'll see. Other times, i look at that girl in the mirror, and wonder... what the hell changed? Over these past couple years, what changed so much. What is it that I used to have that made me feel like a goddess... and now i just feel like a failure.
I'm still trying to figure out why people do what they do. It's this fault of mine that I can't seem to get over. I just can't understand how some people can be so heartless. I keep forgetting I have people in my life who make the pain worth getting over... people like my sister, who i dont think really hates me as much as she would like for me to think she does, and my old boss who still emails me from time to time to make sure i'm ok, and this guy in my life, who i love more than is even possible... who walks by me, uncomplaining, into 300 different stores, looking for some stupid hat... which i never find anyway. Like so many questions i have... unanswered... answers i never find, but its ok that i spent all that time looking.
But what is so great about New York? We're still just us, the out-of-towners, who gawk at the tall buildings and take pictures of EVERYTHING and buy things like, that big ridiculously-huge candy bar that was $4.00 that i bought just because it said "Times Square" on it. Well, i'm just a girl, and we need souvenirs like this to timestamp important events in our life... even though we replay these moments in our head at least a thousand times a day, we still feel the need to buy little keepsakes to remember it... and my room is just full of reminders of my past, and even though most are painful to look at, i can't bring myself to get rid of any of them.
I've heard people say many times, its so weird that we can remember a day, a minute, a moment, 5, 10 years ago with the clarity of a digital photograph -- yet we can't remember what we wore yesterday, or what we had for breakfast. My uncle happened to mention that at Thanksgiving dinner, and Danny just looked at him and said "You don't remember breakfast because its not significant to you. You remember what matters." And my uncle read my mind when he said "That's the best reason I ever heard."
I wake up at the same time every morning, without needing the alarm. I feed my cats, jump in the shower, and make myself Orange Spice hot tea. I hate that i have a routine. I dont like my day predefined. My mother used to make me lay out my clothes for the next day on my bed the night before, so i would be ready for school on time. But i dont want everything in my life to be so "layed out." I want to try on two dozen outfits in the morning, and get frustrated, and show up fashionably late. Sometimes, i skip the Orange Spice tea. Raspberry or black berry ... i need to add flavor to my life. It can't be all the same. After all this is done, I crawl back into bed, fully dressed, and wrap my arms around him as he sleeps. Sometimes he groans and turns away... but usually he smiles through his sleep, and that's all i need to start my day.
At the end of the day, I can't say I have nothing to come home to. I'm not happy unless the pitter-patter of eight little paws on the stairs is the first thing i hear when i walk in the door... somehow, those little furry faces always look like they are smiling... and hell, someone's got to smile... we cant all hate the world.
All this... i have all this. And yet sometimes, i feel so goddamn alone. I hate looking in that mirror and not recognizing that girl... her hair is still the same shade of blond, and her eyes are still big and bright... but she's a stranger these days. You know when you catch yourself in a daze and someone will say sarcastically, "Don't look so happy!" and sometimes i want to say "Who goes around just grinning like a fool?" but then i realize, there probably are people out there like that, who are just happy, always... without a reason to be... without all the cares of the world resting on their shoulders. We passed a young couple sitting on the sidewalk, covered in a tattered blanket, somewhere on a Manhatten sidewalk, and my heart broke for them because i know that they weren't sitting in the freezing cold on that cold cement sidewalk just to enjoy the view... but despite not knowing if they would be alive or dead tomorrow, they looked so content... sitting there wrapped in each other's frail arms... and i wished for a moment i knew what that felt like... bliss.
So i wrap this scarf... bright blue, red, and yellow around my neck, and i go about my day doing all the things that define me, however unnoticeable and insignificant, and i hope to find that hat someday, which will be just perfect for me, so that i can just walk around smiling, and people will marvle at how happy i am for no reason, except that i'll really be smiling because i've finally found my hat... and myself.
![:\](https://bluelight.org/xf/BL_Images/Orig_Emoji/wrygrin.gif "wry grin :\")
