Sunday, November 3, 2013

Cotton and Cough Syrup

Here I am again.

I should be sleeping but I am thinking.Worrying.  Arguably obsessing.

I am failing - my boss, my boyfriend, my sisters. A deep part of me tells me I am not. Oprah says I'm doing the best I can with what I have.

Stability. A nice home. A good job. A closet full of clothes. Stability, I have craved, and now I have it but am not satisfied. I accept it in small doses, like cough syrup. You know it's good for you but no matter what flavor you choose, you can never find the one that doesn't sometimes make you gag.

Maybe this is...normal, balanced. I've always been so up and down. This could be the middle, like the Jimmy Eat World song. My motto. A song I blarred after leaving my first college. Yes, I said first.  (See above "stability" commentary.  No, the one above that.) A move I'm not sure I should have taken, apparent as it's present in my midnight ramblings. But here I am.

I can't see myself anywhere else. But not in the hopeless way of the past. I feel blessed and at the same time uneasy. Unsure,  overly confident, unsure which I am and why and when. Those damn W's get me every time.

Are you awake, too? Rambling, wondering, mind wandering?  Hopefulness among hopelessness?  Here and there? Sometimes nowhere, or at least it seems?

Woven into the scratchy fabric of my past. You know what they say about cotton. It shrinks. As does my past. And my past doesn't fit me today, unless I shrink with it. I don't want to shrink. I'd rather change my shirt.

I want to drink tasty cough syrup in my forever overly-large white cotton tee. Let's just leave it at that.

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