These Are The Stories That We Tell

These are the stories that we tell.

I used to worry about my sister.  I used to worry that she would get lost or taken or hurt or die.  I used to follow her everywhere she went.  I used to annoy her.  I used to keep an eye on her when she played on the playground.  And I used to lose my breath and feel my heart beating through my chest when I couldn't see her.

These are the stories that we tell.

I used to look up lawyers in the phone book and call to ask how much divorces cost.  Their secretaries never told me.  I think they thought I was joking.  Or they felt very very badly for me and because they didn't know what to say, they hung up.  I would try the next one listed.

These are the stories that we tell.

I used to sleep on our porch when it rained.  I used to make a bed out of the long pillows that only my mother used and wrapped myself up in spite of the heat and would rock, my too-short legs stretching down until my toes could hit the green-peeling-paint floor to push the swing enough to swing for a while.

These are the stories that we tell.

My first boyfriend told me that I was the first person he could see himself marrying.  We were sitting on the trunk of his car.  It was a perfect night.  But I couldn't understand the words he was saying.  I think I said "Thank you."

These are the stories that we tell.

When people ask me how I'm doing, I respond with "You know, living the dream."  But I'm not so sure.

These are the stories that we tell.

I used to have everything figured out.  I used to know who I wanted to be, where I wanted to be, what I wanted to do, and who I wanted to do it with.  I wanted to get my Ph.D. in English.  I wanted to teach at a university.  I wanted to have an office with four walls full of books.  I wanted to get married.  I wanted to live in the suburbs.  I wanted to bake scones.  I wanted to have children.  I want none of that now.  I don't think I do.  I have no idea anymore.

These are the stories that we tell.

Most of the time, a lot of time, almost the entire time, I feel like I am right.  I feel like I am good.  I feel like I am the best possible version of myself (minus a few pounds).

These are the stories that we tell.

I never fought with any of my boyfriends.  Not really.

These are the stories that we tell.

I am terrified of being a server/bartender/shift manager for the rest of my life.  I tell people and tell myself that I would be fine supporting myself by serving food while I write during my time off.  But again, I'm not so sure.  But I keep doing it.  I feel stuck.  And inexperienced.  And too experienced in the wrong kinds of things.

These are the stories that we tell.

I want to be supported creatively.  I wish all the time that people like "patrons" still exist like they do in Little Women and Dorian Gray.

These are the stories that we tell.

I feel young every day.

These are the stories that we tell.

I feel old every day.

These are the stories that we tell.