I realized today that we are almost done with February. It made me very happy. Then, I wondered why such a mundane thing would make me happy. Why should I want time to go quickly? I actually, despite all the new kids and all the drama, quite enjoy my job. One part of it is that I can’t wait for summer so I can have time to write. I thought that would be the ONE good thing about him leaving. I’d have more time to write. If anything I have less. I am so busy with having to have the second job and trying to squeeze in so many different friends and family, that on the extremely rare night I don’t have work/plans, I simply fall asleep on the couch at a ridiculously early time. I’m always tired. Part of it is financial. I will have a paycheck come the first, and I can pay bills. Of course, the pay check is gone by the fourth, so that doesn’t help much, but it does alleviate the pressure for a moment. Another reason is that the sooner April comes and goes, the better. It will have been a year, everything from there on, I will have already gone through at least once.
However, while all the above are true, the thing that resonates the most is this: Once again, I feel like I’m living my life on pause. That it is just an in-between time, not real life. So, the more days that pass, the sooner I will get to my ‘real’ life. You know, the one where he comes back and wants to spend his life me. Or, maybe, the one where I don’t want him to, and I’ve found someone who won’t find me a waste of their time and life. The one where I’m published and I’m not writing compulsively because something inside needs to for no reason, but for a genuine purpose—for an end.
I’ve always struggled a little bit with this. Except when I was with Chad (and I’m not being sappy, just honest). With him, I was able to love the moment, I felt like I was really living life, not a bit of it on pause. True, I was looking forward to the day where I was published, but even that process simply felt like life.
Maybe (well, no maybe about it) this is simply the life I’m meant to have. Right here. This, in this moment, even though there’s very little in this moment that I want to be true about my life (except for my family, friends, and dogs), is really just my life. There isn’t something have I rush towards. What if I rush and rush and rush forward to get to my life and discover that this is my life. Like some foreign art movie where you keep waiting for the movie to start and suddenly the credits roll and you realize you watched the movie—all of it. What you thought was prologue and build-up was simply the story.
Black Coffee Tables
1 year ago