What does it mean?

I had so much fun last night.
Life is good.
I had so much fun tonight.
It’s really good.
But I saw something this morning.
And I haven’t stopped thinking about it.
What does it mean?

I’m curious.
Does it matter?
I’m annoyed.
It doesn’t.
Why does it bother me?
It’s weird.
What does it mean?
It’s fine.

I hate this.
I really liked you.
I don’t want this.
This sadness.
I don’t know what to do.
It is what it is.
Life goes on.
I hate social media.

I hate dating apps.
I’ve downloaded and deleted
no less than 3 times this week.
Is it just me?
I’m scared.
It doesn’t matter.
Why am I crying?
What does it mean?
I wish I didn’t care.
I feel like I’m going to vomit.
Because my neighborhood stinks.
This is life.
What does it mean?

Maybe people come and go.
Like seasons.
And that’s not a bad thing.
Let them go.
Learn something.
Move on.
It could be worse.
At least I was never married.
I can’t imagine getting married.
Whatever that means.
I’d rather run a marathon.
We talked about it.
Maybe I’ll run a marathon?
Where is that coming from?
Run away.
Paris.

I’m tired.
Let it rest.

I still wonder what it means.

Life is good.

I find myself saying it a lot. Believing it. Really meaning it. I’m making choices that keep things moving in the general direction of goodness. And you’re not a part of it anymore. Life is good.

It’s better this way. Without you. I remind myself a lot. It’s not what I wanted. I got what I didn’t know I needed.

I hope you find someone who is good to you. I hope you’re good to yourself. I hope you find something you never imagined so you’ll see a future that’s clear and a past makes sense.

But if we never meet again, I need you to know that life is good.

A Year at Work

A Year at Work

I have a confession to make.
This is the first job I’ve ever had for a year.
It’s a big deal to me.
It feels like an accomplishment.
I realize in the grand scheme of life,
a year is a flash in the pan
but I’m proud of myself.
I’m not used to saying that.

When I moved back to the city
I had no idea where my life was going.
I was still finding my footing,
gaining my bearings,
shedding my old skin.
People said I could do whatever I wanted.
If only I’d known what I wanted.
I applied for a lot of jobs
I thought I’d be good at.
Including an assistant editor position
but I should’ve proofread my cover letter
a little more carefully.
I interviewed for a lot of jobs
but nothing felt right.
It felt like I was pulling at loose ends.
Unraveling, again.
I started questioning my choice to move back.
I thought maybe I’d take another restaurant job.
I didn’t want to take another restaurant job.
One night while trolling Culinary Agents,
I saw it-
my dream job title.
Wine administrative assistant.
It seemed too good to be true.
It felt right.
I found what I didn’t even know I wanted.

Happy 1 year to us, Parcelle.
A year at work may not seem like much to most
but this is the most a job has ever meant to me.
Thank you.