Friday, January 05, 2007

Going Home?

I don't know what to call my home anymore. The location where my family resides, my house.
Bedroom = Guest room. This place brings about feelings of frustration, isolation, help and hopelessness. Good to touch blood, but glad I don't have to wade through my parents mis-communications and lost glances. Ouch. I need models for love and harmony. I need veggie corn dogs instead of kfc. I'm sorry, but I don't care that another girl was mugged on the Chicago El. I don't want you to look down on me, because I'm 22 and not married. I want you to believe in whatever it is I need to do to make me happy. I need you to hug me when I'm sad, and yell at me when I'm being ridiculous.

At school, my home. Colored like my mind. My domestic sphere. My life-support. A place in which I can run around naked, laugh uncontrollably, puke, cry, yell, sing, sleep, stay out late, or sautee mushrooms at 4 a.m. The place where I can exeriment with drugs just as much as spaghetti recipes. I can bring you home and make you breakfast, or I can watch the entire season of Freaks & Geeks in one sitting; And I won't be condemned for either. I can learn from others, and not be inundated with familial and world misgivings. I can grow fifty feet tall and not be cut-down by halve-nots. We are all different, and I love that. I don't even care if we don't have a dishwasher. I miss my girls.

Break is pretty much over. I'm going back to work and back to the apartment. My time there is limited, and I must make the best of it. The semester ahead of me is sure to be the most trying of all. I think I'm ready for the challenge. Regardless I'm scared. The future is bright and I must focus on that.

Tonight I sat with him. Many hours and many words. In the car at the end of my drive-way. Like high-school kids not wanting to let go. He chain-smoked, but I didn't care. We talked about old times, new times, love, deviance, depression and the infinity of the universe. We talked about that quiet night with fog and bikes. We rode till our lungs burned. Careful of the frogs. We stopped at the park, next to the field where he shielded me from slugs. He said, "You look like mother earth in the moonlight." I squeezed so tight my knuckles turned white. On swings we talked about our shortcomings, and he laid his head in my lap and sobbed. "What a dope you must of thought me," he said. I shook my head resolutely trying not to inhale too much smoke. I didn't tell him, but that was the night I thought I could love him. Of course I wasn't ready. So I trumped everyone of his love cards. A bitter boy he was to become. In that car playing catch up, well It wasn't all seriousness. He told me about how mad he was that I wouldn't put-out that one time he drove so far for my warmth. I started laughing and so did he. I told him, "sorry for galavanting like a tease in my green frilly undies, but Vincent Gallo had my heart that night! You thought we were going to have sex that night?" At once the car became still. No doubt we were both trying to remember the grade-school curves of one-another's bodies. We aren't those kids anymore. Kids, yes, but not those same. I apologized again for being one of the terribles. Told him I was broken, and I hadn't gotten better. He asked about ex-lover and I just began laughing. The laugh of inner desperation. He nodded, added his own laugh, said, "I know what you mean. I hated him you know. The very fact that he existed twisted my soul. But I'm more mature now, I must say ... I bet you two looked like a couple of near-sighted Hummels; precious and costly." I wanted to laugh, but I agreed too much. All of it was true and too close to my soft spots. So I quick changed the subject. Wrong subject. He knew me too well. Prodded and poked at me till I turned the tables. Wrong subjects. Will this make us feel better? So we switched to something safe. Oh this weather oh this drug oh that movie. Oh yeah sir I miss you. I miss our lofty universe talks. I miss how you hated reading, but insisted I read to you over the phone. I miss falling asleep to you playing video-games. I miss talking to your dad and eating your mom's food. I miss how everyone thought we were the most outta-sight couple that they'd ever seen. I miss your intense gaze as you banged away on stage. I miss bonding over awkwardness, anxiety, and hating most everyone we came into contact with. I miss the comfort, and I miss your friendship. I'm glad I saw you tonight, but I'm even happier we've both moved on. I wish I would have appreciated the fragility of your heart. Tonight you helped me to realize that this relationship, whether or not love thrived meant more to me than I give credit.

On-again off-again you told me you believed I wasn't broken, and that meant a lot. When and if the time comes again, and someone throws their heart fully in my direction I promise to take your advice:
  1. Don't be so self-absorbed. (yeah yeah)
  2. Don't play dumb. (What me?)
  3. Put-out. (ha ha)
  4. Say what you mean. Mean what you say. (trite but true)
  5. Make time for the person you care about. (more time than you think)
  6. Make room for the person you care about in your daily life. (harder than it seems)
  7. It's okay to think long-term. (is it? I know I know...)
Yeah, I've matured too, and I'm tired of picking up hitchhikers just to pass the time. Look for more frequent posting, come tomorrow no more dial-up!!! weeeee!

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