Welcome back.

Welcome back.

It feels so good to be in my own bed. The shitty wifi is a familiar discomfort. After being gone for so long, I almost forgot how much I missed my space.

Opening my laptop is stressful. So many tabs open. I really should be mindful of tidying my digital space.

When he encouraged me (in his way) to rearrange my apps, it changed the way I use my phone. Albeit I’m still on my screen way too much. It makes my eyes hurt and it’s getting harder for me to read.

I still read fast. I’ve always been a fast reader. But you already know that. Could I ever be the kind of writer that people love to read? That people look forward to reading. Is anybody even reading? What would I write about? How about the good things? The things that make me feel good.

Going back to work today was not awful. Contrary to popular belief. And I feel like New York is on my side. The weather was beautiful. Compared to the snowstorm I caught in Chicago. Got off the plane from Honolulu and walked into the freezing rain. Welcome back to reality. No more sounds of the ocean lulling you to sleep. Back to the smelly streets that are full of trash.

It’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. I’m doing the right thing. I know what I want. How often do I say what I want? I remember he would laugh whenever I’d take a second to consider my answer because he could see me thinking. I liked knowing he was watching. It’s why I love read receipts. They’re a little proof that I had your attention.

It’s kind of funny how I dropped my bags off only to pack a different bag to leave again. I don’t feel like this space is a home. All my stuff is here but this is not a home. My Airbnb in Hawaii felt more like a home. Ok maybe that’s a stretch.

Is this how books get written? I don’t even know what I’d write a book about. What kind of exciting things happen in my life? Last night I played Pictionary. And I was pretty good at it. My team still lost. I got to see my best friend shine last night. The whole weekend really. It was a nice ease back into reality.

I’m glad I got that thing off my chest. Maybe it took a trip to Hawaii to figure it out. I was told that going away makes things clear. I know what I don’t want. What I won’t entertain for no other reason than I don’t want to. It’s nice. You understand. It feels like a relief. It’s pretty clear. I did what I needed and not what I wanted.

I hate unpacking. I should complain less. Why is it so cold? I’m not complaining. I chose this. Relax your jaw.

Is this what writing a book feels like? You just sit down and go? You let the thoughts go? What’s the next thought? I think I’m doing the right thing. I think I should stop thinking about that. And that, too.

Maybe I should stop editing before it hits the page. There is no wrong way. Just do it. Is it Sheryl Sandberg who says done is better than perfect? Not to say that a Facebook executive is the person to look up to these days if you’re trying to lead a life of integrity. Is it just me? I deleted Facebook. I’m in that camp now. Not that I wouldn’t take a job at a big tech company if I had the chance. All the people that I know who work for Google, of which there are maybe 3, seem really happy. Their lives look very stable and they do things that I don’t really a care about.

What would that life be like? I don’t know. I love my job in way I never thought I would love a job. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows but I’m going to stick it out. I’m learning how to be patient.

I don’t think I’ll ever have your restraint. I just don’t see the point in denying yourself something that feels good when it’s right there. Does that make me reckless? Sometimes people get hurt. And there were times I ended up hurting myself. I knew I did something wrong just because it was there. But even just for a moment, I felt good.

It feels good to be back for now.

What’s worse?

Life with or without you? Is it worth denying a part of myself to indulge another? I don’t think I’m capable of shutting down the part of me that feels so intensely. How would I turn it down? How do you do it? I’m realizing not everyone feels the way I do.

So what’s worse? A taste of something sweet knowing there’s a limit or depriving myself entirely? I can’t control my feelings the way you can and I don’t want to. Why should I? I know what feels right and I know I’ll want more. I can’t want less of something that feels so good. I don’t know what’s worse but I’m trying to do what’s best for me.

Times gone by

Remember that time you were driving me home on a beautiful, warm, sunny day in April? You let me pick a song and it felt really intimate scrolling through your playlists. I was a little nervous to choose but I found one that was just right. We turned the volume up, rolled the windows down. We sang and danced along. That moment is seared into my memory because it felt right, like we were on the same page. We were having fun. We weren’t worried about our futures. Right? Or was it just me? Do you remember what I’m talking about? 

We were coming back from that hotel on the beach. I’ll never not think about you if I ever go back there. That stupid, little hotel where it felt like we were on vacation but really we were just escaping from reality together for a while. That hotel where sat together for hours talking about all the things that mattered to us. 

Remember the first time we went? When we ran into that woman who ran an alumni association for the school we went to as kids? You paid for lunch because you’d lost our usual bet. I can’t remember if at some point you said it was a date. There were drinks involved and you kissed me by the pool. It felt like a date. It was warm and I could hear the ocean. We were there for 5 hours or something ridiculous like that and I had trouble getting back into my house after you dropped me off because I couldn’t remember the code to the garage. I was flustered. You surprised me. 

Can you blame me?

But what’s the point in reminiscing? It doesn’t matter anymore. Whatever we were wasn’t the real thing and now it’s not anything. Sure, it might make for a good story but who’s reading? Who cares?

Me. I care. Ok, there I said it. I still care about you and I wish so badly that I didn’t. I make myself miserable wondering what you were (or are) thinking at any given moment. I’m really good at it. I tell myself to get over it, to stop replaying the memories in my mind but I’m really bad at it. Not to say I haven’t tried. I am constantly trying and constantly failing. It annoys me. I hate it. I hate that as I’m hurtling 611 mph at 37,000 ft above ground, I happen to pick a movie that reminds me a lot of us and suddenly, I’m back wishing for times gone by.

Our usual

Our usual

I was surprised and disappointed to see your number appear on my screen. I don’t have your contact saved anymore but I knew it was you. Why now? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t panic. I felt my stomach clench, my head spin, and my thoughts start to race. What the actual fuck? It felt like I could vomit so I poured myself a healthy serving of tequila.

My life is rich without you. It’s simpler in a lot of ways. Things with you were complicated. For me at least. I have everything I need and more, but seeing your number makes me feel like I’m missing something.

You put two words together and texted them to me. Bravo. What did you expect? Did you actually think I’d take you up on your offer? Were you hoping I’d respond in my way that I know you love so much? You said I ruined witty banter for you. You’ve never met anyone else like me? What were you thinking?

This is exactly why I love read receipts. I didn’t know how to respond but you know I saw it. There’s a time stamp to prove it and you know without a doubt that I chose to not respond. Even though I still want to. A wise man once told me the worst thing you can do to someone is ignore them. I don’t know who this is worse for, me or you. Does it even bother you?

Thank God for that wedding. A perfect distraction. Albeit, the thought of you crossed my mind more than once. Especially in the moments when I ducked out of the reception and took myself on a moonlit stroll through one of the most beautiful properties I’ve set foot on. I kept wishing you were there. We’d have a lot of fun as wedding dates.

In another life, I would’ve taken you up on your offer. I would’ve said yes to our usual bet and you would owe me dinner. Our usual. But things are different now and for the first time maybe ever, I don’t know what to say to you. Maybe you’ll get a taste of what it feels like to not know how someone feels about you.

I still wish you were here. I wish we were sitting here together looking out onto the ocean with nothing but time and a bottle of rosé. You’d love the view. Epic sunsets. The kind that I want(ed) to watch with you. But you’re not here, you’re there.

I keep reminding myself it’s better this way. I don’t need you and I hate the part of me that misses you. Until it’s gone, it will suck. But in response to your ridiculous, outlandish, out-of-nowhere question – if you wanted to take me out to dinner, you could’ve just asked. But I suppose that was never our usual.

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 shouldn’t matter.
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?
What is wrong with me?
It doesn’t matter.
Why am I crying?
What does it mean?
I wish I didn’t care.
I feel like I might vomit.
My neighborhood stinks.
This is my 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?
I’m trying to run away from you.

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 that makes sense.

But if we ever 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.