confession: this new car is 30% faster than the old model, true to its advertised claims. i’m intimidated to drive her with the turbo engaged (known as the “sport” button to other bmw drivers). i’m grateful to unmarked cop cars lurking on freeways that deter my triple-digit speeding. sincerely, thanks. this car is FAST. this car scares me. i like this fear that makes my heart pound, my fingers tingle, my foot press heavily against the pedals.
confession: i eat chocolate when i’m angry. i just ate a LOT of chocolate. i curse when i feel hurt. i’m not cursing. i’m not hurt. i’m full of chocolate and still angry. he knows that i’m angry. i raised my voice and expressed the specific where, why, and how of my anger.
confession: my haircut appointment is scheduled in 30 minutes. i shouldn’t get a haircut while i’m angry.
confession: they went to her doctor appointment to find out the baby’s gender. they left her appointment grieving that she had lost the baby. her birthday is today. she’s the only person i know who is having a worse birthday than i had last year. i don’t know what to say to her, because there is nothing to say that will ease the pain. i told her i love her, that i’m gently holding her heart.
confession: sometimes letting go happens effortlessly, without thought or action. i woke up tuesday morning and the feelings i had been holding onto were gone. i feel lighter and better, looser and freer.
confession: she is in the middle of her life, living it as best she can. her current choices might be an elaborate subconscious escape or it might be the path to finding her secret treasure. this might be equally true of me.
confession: i’ve written everything except the most important thing. i’ve confessed everything except the deepest thing.