Falling

I’m taking a break this week from writing about my childhood woes because I want to get current. I know I’m choosing to do so, but hot damn it’s hard to face your past head on in a public platform.

Right now, I’m depressed.

I feel very lethargic. All I want to do is lie in bed and be a sad burrito. Even as I’m typing this, I’m lying in bed. Pillow on my uterus, laptop on top of that. Lights are out, but my floor lamp is on. I look out my window and notice the Autumn gloom. The temperature is crisp, but within the hollowness of the air, is a depth of old sorrow. Sweater weather shoves me straight down memory lane. This season change in particular brings up heavy feelings of deja vu. Yes, I remember this wounded feeling. It’s almost as if nothing in my life has materialized. I am the same sad, lonely girl I have always been. I will always be her. Nothing will ever change. 

It’s important for me to stay connected to friends and family. I’m longing for a connectivity but with the wrong type of people. I want to contact ex-boyfriends- the one I dated in college or even the one whose life I made a living hell in my early 20s. Yes, that’s a good idea. Contact him. Ask him out for coffee. Better yet, just show up at his place. He’ll like that. He’ll think it’s romantic. 

I want to reach out to old, mean friends and say… look at me now bitches! I make close to six figures. I’m on your tv. And now I got another part on a sitcom, you skanky hoe bags. But more importantly, I’ve started to speak up. So hear this, keep my lip gloss! This bitch doesn’t care anymore!

I want to contact people who knew me when…I’m so surprised you made something for yourself. You know, with your given circumstances and all…

But instead, the only changes I’m seeing are the wrinkles, the weight gain, and my missing chapsticks. Oh, and the rapid dwindle of money in my bank account. The only things I’m hearing are… I’m never going to work again. Your television role is tiny and those commercials are dumb. You have nothing to say. Your perpetual state of being single isn’t helping you by the way. No one wants you now. 

I’m still that chubby girl in middle school who is getting ridiculed. But this time, it’s from me. This is what Fall does to me!

Last night, I took my 13 year old self to the Greek Theatre to see Hanson. I wasn’t obsessed with them like some of my friends were in middle school. I went because of my longing for familiarity. Front row. By myself. Ice cream sandwich, in hand. I sang along. I danced with other women my age. And then I walked home without any regret of saying something dumb to an ex or a jealous friend from the past.

I’m glad I did that. I was being too mean to little Dixie. She doesn’t deserve that. She never did.