I brewed such a big pot of coffee only to find out that there is no milk or creamer but that seems to be the way of the world, isn’t it?
I’m here again at my home away from home and I was instinctively drawn to my keyboard and my blog and I just thought to myself, “silly girl, you don’t even have a home.” Nowhere feels welcome. No one isn’t bothered by me, and I hate that about myself that I am so naturally contradictory to everyone I love and care about. My love of stains and mess and disarray, my inherent shyness and compulsion to stay out of everyone’s way makes them inevitably feel like I am being passive aggressive and that is so far from the actual truth that I want to cry. I just want my own space to exist in and stare at puddles of paint of the floor and not worry about anything until I absolutely have to and get out of everyone I love’s way.
Since we last spoke, I was still an intern and I am proud to say that I flew my way on to the payroll with my company and I am excited about learning new things every day and helping this start-up become more efficient, streamlined, organized, and good in every respect. I am constantly thinking about ways to improve things, and I am learning things in a perpetual motion. I am so inspired by my roommate but I am terribly afraid of how much she dislikes who I am so I am in the process of trying to save enough money to get out of her house and away from under her skin.
So many nights pass before I feel overwhelmed enough to write, and this is very therapeutic for me. I have broken hearts, I have fallen in and out of love more times than I care to admit. I have picked so many flowers, I have gone on many walks, held many hands and kissed many cheeks. Hundreds of flocks of birds swarming in the sky together. Hundreds of cups of piping hot coffee. So, so, so very many bowls of ramen noodles for lunch and public bus rides back to my friends house where I sleep on a foam mattress on the floor and feel bad about being there. So many nights I graze my hips with my razor blade and wish had more and even more than that, nights where I am so impressed with myself for not having drug addictions or children or collapsed veins from the life I feel like I just barely escaped. We’re all just hurting and channeling our pain in the interesting and infinite possibilities of ways to channel pain. I am grateful right now. I am grateful for the black coffee I am drinking, for the vinyl copy of my favorite pixies album that my friend bought for me, grateful for the place I’ve been living for the last few months and I am grateful for my job. I will never stop striving to be better. I will never stop wondering, how do I paint the sea foam?