Slice Open a Vein or Shut the Fuck Up

“Going pretty slow in there, huh?”
“Well, yes and no.”

Readers, I am well aware of the fact that I haven’t said boo to you since May 4th. Matter of fact, I didn’t say much before then and, if memory serves, that last post was about my cat. People hate when you write about your cat. Slice open a vein or shut the fuck up.

I’d love to slice a vein open for you, but I’m not sure I could find one right now. Life at present isn’t without its fair share of little stupid torments. I still wish I were capable of having a real conversation with my mother. I’m still not sure that some choices I’ve made were the right ones. I still wonder where I’m going to find money to buy myself a new roof.

Hell, there were bigger, scarier torments. I can’t tell you about those because they happened at work and the walls have ears. Or they happened in my social life, in which case that’s none of your business until I decide it’s your business.

Actually, let’s discuss that.

I do have some policies left. One of those policies is that, while it’s perfectly fine for me to tell you all of my secrets, other people’s secrets (even those of which other people just have joint custody) are off limits. Thing is, my life has become so intertwined with someone else’s that I’m never quite sure what to tell you anymore. Also, I’m frequently so busy that I don’t have time to stop and think about what I would tell you. I have no idea what could possibly interest you at this point. (Frankly, I need to stop worrying about that. No offense, but I’ve never been here for you. I’ve been here for me, and some of you just drop in sometimes.)

I am currently busily trying to familiarize myself with 100 alien territories all at once. I’m groping around in relationship land, having no idea what the hell I’m doing, being a little weirded out by it, and deciding to continue on anyway. With each little baby step, I look at my feet and realize how much it would hurt to end up back at the foot of the stairs. To fall back to the foot of the stairs. My God, the bones you can break that way.

“This life. I don’t recognize this life. I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Do you want your old life back?”

“Well, no.”

The whole thing makes me feel like every character ever played by Matthew McConaughey. Every movie where he plays some confirmed bachelor who meets The Girl (usually played by someone who’s pretty but still accessible, like Sandra Bullock or Jennifer Aniston) and doesn’t know what to do with himself. She puts an air freshener in his Single Man Porsche. She keeps spare pajamas at his house. She knows her way around his kitchen, meets his friends and knows where his dog likes to be scratched. He gets all weirded out and does something stupid 40 minutes before the end of the movie, just so the two of them can make up 10 minutes before the end of the movie. Only I’d like to avoid that whole “do something stupid” part.

I don’t have any answers.
I’m just running around trying not to hurt anybody.

All I’ve learned thus far is that the most important thing you can do is trust yourself and the person next to you. I’m not very good at trusting myself, but I’m willing to give it a shot. Rest assured, I’ve been working on some words that I’ve been leading up to for 33 years. They’re taking their pretty time getting written because I’m being terribly careful with them.

When it’s time, you’ll see them.
Til then, bear with me.
There could be more blogs about my cat.

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