Art School

The day she told me she was moving it was raining. Nicotine clouds floated out of her mouth and up into the damp air. She was moving home from art school and we were going to fight about it. I still can't understand the part of her that was never truly happy. She had everything and never wanted any of it...she decided she was eccentric and made up her mind a long time ago that she was always going to drive a shitty car, bounce around from city to city, complaining about her parents and pretending she had a reason to be depressed.

We were going to fight about this because I was fed up with her charade. I was tired of her throwing away every opportunity, squandering every chance at the life I knew I was never going to have. She had for so many years, meticulously destroyed piece by piece of herself and her future and I couldn't stand it anymore.

I said I didn't want to hear about it this time. I said she was a spoiled brat and the whole artsy pot-head routine was getting old. I said that I didn't want to know why... or where she was going now. I said so many horrible things... and she just said one,

"I never thought you- of all people, could hurt me like this." And we haven't spoken since.

But isn't it only me, of all people- that could hurt her that way? Only the people that love you the most can cut you the deepest. And you don't fight, really fight...with people you don't love.

The people who mean nothing to you might ruin your day, they might make you lose an hour or two of sleep....set you off on some tyrannical Facebook campaign filled with moronic cliches ....they might hit on your boyfriend or be the reason behind your 4 beers after work on a Monday night. But, those people can't hurt you, not really hurt you.

The other ones, the ones you love...they know all your secrets. They know when you lie to someone you love, when you make a catastrophic mistake and swear each other to secrecy. They've seen you throw up on yourself, cry over some douche bag not worth your tears, they've helped you Facebook stalk your ex, they have listened to your say horrible things about all your other friends and despite you being crazy, demanding, selfish and often times flat out stupid, they love you anyway and you love them for accepting what a disaster you are. 

These people never intentionally want to hurt you but they inevitably will, because these people who love you when your wrong, still expect you to do right. These people hold you accountable which means these people wont always accept your excuses, but that doesn't mean they don't accept you. 

I had thought about all of this on my drive to work. And this morning, I was late for the first time. Work had consumed my days, it ran through all my thoughts at night, it made my feet hurt, my head hurt, it made Charlotte's grandmother pick her up from daycare because I was going to have to stay late again. It made me happy to be back in Tri-Cities, it made me happy that I was growing and in control.... it made me smile when I got a raise. But most of the time, it made me lose my freaking mind. 

It's all I talked about, it's all I focused on. If I was getting my coffee or calling my mom or drinking beer at my sister's bar I was talking about work and low and behold...it was starting to drive everybody nuts. And with everybody going nuts and me already nuts, I should have known the fight was coming and that if I wasn't careful, I would end up with another story about how I hurt someone I loved, and we never forgave each other.

Winter

If you’ve been there before, you know what it feels like to be there again.  You can retrace the moments that lead up to this point; this thought, those words, that night.... you talked yourself into, then out of, what that tiny voice was telling you….

You are not happy

….are you?

I think some days, most people wake up unhappy. And I think some people wake up unhappy most days.  And Some days I find myself wondering which one of those people I might be. 

Maybe it’s just winter. I just stand there, freezing in my towel and soaking the carpet beneath my pink toes. I stare out the window frantically searching for one small sliver of glittery sunlight…one tiny ray of warmth. Maybe it’s just winter. Before I know it the dark will rise, the clouds will part and the sun will come barreling out of the sky and land right on top of my wet, tangled head and then, there will be happiness.

 I sprint back into my bedroom, throw myself into bed and rip the covers over my head. Above the noise of my chattering teeth I hear my head tell my body that were just cold and its just winter. 

10 minutes later my phone vibrates off the edge of my dresser and onto the floor. Unfortunately for me, and fortunately for the sake of my job, I am incapable of sleeping through my alarm.  Charlotte wakes up to the sound of me dropping my hair dryer and curling iron on the bathroom floor. She wants a red clip in her hair and her silver sequin boots. “Mommy you have silver boots too, but they don’t have sparkles….” She is standing on top of the toilet, sabotaging my overpriced lip gloss and telling her new stuffed animal, Eric, that she won’t be taking him to daycare today because he was naughty yesterday. I almost forget as were piling into my new car, that today my first payment is due, that I can’t pick her up from daycare because I’m training an employee tonight and that I forgot my wallet in my bedroom on that pile of clothes in my closet (as usual). 

When I drop her off at daycare I take a left instead of a right, I set my cruise instead of hit the gas, I turn up the radio instead of get out my cell phone, and I think that might have been the morning of that night I mentioned earlier.