what do YOU want?
right after publishing my last post, in which I declared myself broke and poor and budgeted, I biked to el borracho for food and margaritas. what gives. I mean what I say when I say it, but sometimes I lose my head.
I am trying to get comfortable saying no to girlfriends, figuring out and asserting my wants. I was raised to long for friends, a feeling enforced by internal loneliness and external shame that I seemingly could not be socialized. now I have four brothers, but I was raised as an only child. I didn’t make friends in elementary school. I mostly hung out with books.
when I was 10 I learned how to tell jokes and I made some friends that way. when I was 15 I learned how to party and I made more friends that way. but where is the emily that was? quiet and serious and shy
when I am alone I am free. free to read and write and smell flowers. free to eat like a slob, naked in bed; free to say weird things on the internet. only problem is sometimes when I’m alone I feel like I might already be dead.
tonight I made plans with three friends in three neighborhoods when I only had time for two. “do what you most want” is fun for some, but my wants can disappear when stressed.
my parents divorced when I was two and fought over me ever since. shit was stressful and I tried to appease and change myself to fit different situations. after leaving home and coming back to visit I tried to keep things fair. keep visits even, keep everyone happy and after all that the inevitable question would eventually come booming: but what do YOU want?
what do I want? of all the choices in the world, with all the life I’ve lived until this very moment, must I decide where we go for dinner? and with which parent I dine? is this a trick? is this a trap?
I want everyone to be happy. I want everyone to be nice. i want other people to talk more than i do. I want people to listen when I speak.
so when I have 3 options and 2 slots it is not an easy decision. I may have cried on the bike path. I may have had a panic attack on the magnolia bridge. I may have been tempted to throw myself off that bridge into the fiery pits of hell, but instead I had Mexican food and saw art in pioneer square.
and I know this shit is meandering but so are my emotional responses.