tales of a girl in the city

janvier 03, 2004

Some days are better than others.

A good day post break-up:

Standing at a party with a drink in my hand, happy about whatever song is currently playing. Happy to be included in the feeling of people when they're together and tipsy. The sensation that everything is possible again. Particularly the cute guy in the corner, who makes me feel curious and giggly. Just a little. Fine. A lot.

Passing a stranger who whispers just loud enough: "You're gorgeous."

Walking home at night. Sharp sky. Sharp sound of my feet on the sidewalk. Full of cold. Full of the evening and its conversations, its food, its drinks. Alone, but feeling big anyway. Feeling filled up and large enough to last.

A bad day post break-up:

Watching my youngest cousin touch his new girlfriend's hair, looking at her like she'd just been invented. I'm on the couch across from them, working as hard as I can to forget how nice it feels when someone you like plays with your ears.

Trips into The Land of Unanswerable Questions: When did he start sleeping with her? How many times? When did they go to Washington D.C.? Does he think of me now? What does he remember? Does he miss me? Does he regret what he did? And so on and so forth.

Being hit suddenly in a cab or on the subway, by an awareness of space. How different...well, how different life feels when there is no longer another body there to touch or bump up against.

And the worst, worst, worst of all: waking up and realizing that I have been crying in my sleep.

Well. Forward motion.

A toast (Coca-Cola in hand. Told you I wouldn't be able to give it up). To the day (Please get here fast) when M is just a letter and there's that feeling hovering close by all over again...

That anything can happen.

That I'm gonna love what's coming next.