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It just wasn’t

June 14, 2009

Its late and I want to go and see my favorite local band and I have the night off. I pester and badger him into going, “Get dressed, come on, lets go, will you dance with me?” He frowns, as he is permanently doing, pauses and tells me, “Stop it. No, I won’t dance. That, would be ridiculous.” Whirling around the apartment like a dragonfly on a pond I land in the bathroom to dry my hair, fuss with my face, back to the bedroom to change into six outfits that MUST center around my new-to-me white straight leg jeans, peeling off tshirt after tshirt like a snake shedding its skin I drop them on the floor, the bed, the dresser. Exhausted and giving up, settling for a light blue lace tshirt I feel vaguely rockin  in, strap on my black high heel sandals and put on my red lipstick. He sits on the couch, smoking, looking bored with it all already.

I feel like  a burden. A burden that I want his friendship and for him to like me. It feels like too much, like when I use to fight with my mom. Its that sick sinking sort of feeling knowing that no matter how hard you try, its never enough. My mind is always all fuzzy and hums with a distracting tone when ever we are together and I blame it on my brain being young and full of drugs mostly. I blame it on my own insecurities. I blame it on my need to be liked, no matter what and by everyone. I blame it on my desire to please, to be pleasing, to be part of a crowd. I never blame it on the truth because I will never know it. I could never say it because its embarrassingly stupid and silly.

Its like looking into a mirror and seeing the back of your head, unexpected and curious and not what  you thought at all.

Walking into the bar the music of the jukebox is loud, people are sweaty and glamorous waiting like only the beautiful can, with oozing indifference. People scan the room for the person who is better looking, thinner, better dressed and I join them in my own search. He walks in oblivious to it all, embarrassed by his companion for the night. Regret across his wan smile breaks through the politeness. Like a hamster on a wheel I perseverate, “We can go, you can go, do you wanna go?” He just shakes his head and looks away, away from me into the crowd.

I dance and sing and drink and smoke, when you could still smoke inside a bar (gosh, I am old) and try not to think about how much I disappoint him and not knowing why or how that could ever come to be. I am not smart enough, not pretty enough, not thin enough, not nearly enough of anything to be considered. Considered for much. Considered very little. My infinitesimal part looms large in my head but when its reflected in his eyes its nothing. Its less than nothing and I feel ashamed and stupid for searching for something that is so clearly never there.

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