I’m sitting here in a cushioned chair. A Remedy Iced Chai is sitting on the table in front of me. The music from my earphones is battling Arcade Fire tripping from the speakers above me.
I’m watching a forty-something-year-old. He is outside, and he is getting sucked in to donate a dollar a day to kids in Africa. He calls his wife to make sure it is ok.
“Honey, you probably don’t need that liposuction. And the kids are probably pretty damn hungry.”
I’m starting to eat again. After the breakup I couldn’t eat. I’ve even let the milk in my fridge go bad. No cereal for me.
I look at couples now, and I think “man, that would be nice. To be held and to receive loving glances.” But you have to really think if it is exactly what it looks like. It’s not. She is probably addicted to some household cleaner and he watches aggressive gay porn every night. Aggressive.
So I’m rather delighted that I no longer have to worry about what a partner is hiding from the world. Only me. Only me. Only me. And that’s ok.
Not that that is the only worry of being in a relationship. I no longer feel guilty about going out. I run on my own time.
But I also have to rely on my own independence.
I think that I have been doing ok so far (that’s not to say that I haven’t made strange decisions. Notice that I didn’t write “bad.”) I definitely have a greater appreciation of myself.
I can do this. I got this.
“This is the last song that I write
While you’re even on my mind
Cause it’s time to leave
Those feelings behind”
P.S Wu-Tang t-shirts seem to be the new thing.