boxed bread

My dog is the best gift I’ve ever gotten myself. He is the most spastic, gentle, sweet boy in the world. I truly can’t imagine what traveling would be like without my sculpted ass pal.

I came home from the dog park today and ate bread out of a can. I didn’t know that was a thing and then felt disgusting almost instantly after. So I drank hot chocolate, which didn’t help. I feel like one of those bleached shirts that college kids make in a window-less bathroom. All foggy, light-headed, and speckled forever. It’s a feeling I can’t put one word to and it’s a feeling that doesn’t offer a reason. I was told a couple years ago that instead of analyzing everything, especially my thoughts, I should just notice. It sounds really simple and really obvious but it’s incredibly difficult for me. Somedays I feel almost too comfortable living and the next day I feel almost too uncomfortable.

When I was around the age of five, I started wondering what it would be like if we all lived outside of our bodies, just for a little bit each day, and then a little more the next. I wondered if this life was truly real or if it was a giant dream. Bodies seemed so complicated to me but nobody seemed to see them that way. I wondered how everyone could just walk around on the day to day and stay upright. How did legs always work even when you weren’t talking to them. How was it possible to have thoughts, literally all the time. How did our bodies know to go to sleep and to wake up being the same person in the morning. You know that story about the kid who is a different person everyday? That actually makes more sense to me than the way we all live now. Sleep is one of the most foreign ideas to me: this creation of an unconscious and subconscious mind, traveling so far and so deep but physically stuck in the same space.

The ones that choose to leave always seem to stay there, always somewhere in my river of thoughts, poking their heads out and diving back in. To all my lovely women out there, you’re wonderful and so very brave. I’m sure you’ve heard this before because it’s something that drives me batty when people say it: “you deserve someone who treats you well. someone who sees how special you are and celebrates that everyday”. I have had no issue finding this in people. But the ones (men) I want used to never stay. They became this jelly fish, floating in my fresh water river, a creature out of it’s element. And I wanted so desperately to pluck them from the river, carry them safely to the ocean, but they sting and swim, and I have no choice but to just watch them bob downstream. Slowly and silently away from me.