confession: i’ve fallen in love with roadtripping. that’s not true, but i want it to be. i want to love hours trapped in the car drowsy from road hypnosis. i’m trying. i’m learning what works for me: take two excedrin tension headache caplets before i get in the car and practice driving meditations…seeing how long i can keep my mind entirely blank other than the attention required to drive safely (52 minutes is my current record).
confession: i went deeply enough into nowhere that i could see the milky way and visit a friend. time outside of the car passed too quickly. i need more night and less day. summer nights flash by and the sun beats down again, burning me.
confession: songs on repeat, songs sinking into my cells, new songs, songs i know he’s never heard before and would never listen to, songs that are all mine and shared with millions of other people, but none of those millions are him. i know that she hears these songs, too, that she listens to them, sings along with them, loves them as i do. i also know that she never thinks of me when she hears them. i’ve never thought of her when i listen…until now…until i thought about him never hearing them.
confession: my 20th high school reunion is this weekend. just like in high school, i’m fretting too much about what i’m going to wear. ridiculous.
confession: i will be tequila tingling as i enter the bar full of people from my past on friday evening. i’ve imagined walking through the weekend sober as a kung-fu kill-bill-style training exercise, and i could do it, but it wouldn’t be much fun. if i were sober, i’d sit on the edge and watch rather than interactively participate. alcohol is the anesthesia that makes socializing less painful, still draining for my introversion, but less painful.
confession: i have no escape plan for the reunion. this is notable, because i always have an escape plan for social engagements.
confession: i have exceedingly high expectations for people with whom i engage in relationships. most people can not meet my exceedingly high expectations, but the few that meet and surpass them validate and reinforce the altitude of these expectations. obviously my expectations aren’t impossible or unreachable. i’m content to maintain them because i’m only satisfied in relationships where they are met.
confession: i’ve been doing my version of praying something that goes like “let there be consistency in my words, thoughts, and actions. let that consistency be a constant flow of love and healing.” i’d experience more peace if i were consistently loving, kind, and careful in word, thought, and deed. i’ve been hurt and hurtful. i’ve been impatient and unwilling. i’m sorry. I’m sorry for closing my heart and acting from damaged conditioning rather than opening my heart and being present to receive the gifts offered. i’m calling a do-over.