I soaked you up like a sponge. And now I’m having trouble finding a spot to wring myself out. No place is big enough; no place can hold the excess. No place is right. It wears me out carrying around all this excess weight. I’m tired. I need a break; I need to shrug it off. Drop it. Do you know what it’s like to get caught up in someone else? It is a strange and wonderful feeling. Captivating, distracting, and the opposite of empowering. Although maybe it should be an empowering experience. Are there many opportunities we have to be distracted by someone else? To forget about ourselves for a brief moment.


I had dinner with an old friend tonight. Not old as in long-time; not old as in bestie; although we have known each other for 2 years now (known of each other’s existence in the world, not necessarily known much about each other). But this was a person with whom I’ve always felt comfortable; always felt somewhat of a connection with, even if it’s just our professional interests, even if it’s just our similar ambitions and dreams to travel and escape the midwest. I’ve just been thinking, you know, always thinking, about the people I have these connections with. These people I can sit with over a two hour dinner; these people I can laugh with and chat with as if it hasn’t been five months since I’ve seen them. I’m lucky. My palm shows it, if you look close enough, the luck of my life. The line that pushes across my palm strong, and clear, and bold. It sits there and seems to tease me at times, “hello, girl.” But then something like tonight will happen and i’ll look down and acknowledge it in the slightest, careful not to jinx myself; careful not to let it get to my head; always careful, that’s me. But anyway, I was sitting there at dinner with this friend that I sometimes forget I have (don’t we do that, sometimes forget those people that are out there, living their lives, that we’re connected to) and thinking how common it is, that none of us know what we want. None of us know what we want, but I hope we know who we are. That has to be the common thread, the foundation, the base. I was visiting with an aunt and my mother a few weeks ago. What else will re-check you into reality, into yourself, then a visit with the women that know you best? That have known you since before you knew yourself. They regaled me with stories of my childhood, reminiscing about the way I was, the way I have always been, about my mannerisms and characteristics that shined through from the youngest age that one can begin to articulate those personality traits. It made me laugh to think that despite all the things that have happened to me, I’m still kind of this same person. It gives me hope, mostly, because I feel like I can keep going wherever, even though I don’t know what I want, but I’ll probably still manage to come back to myself, in some form, in some way. Where else can I go? What else can I do?