I’D LIKE TO BE SETTLED INTO SOMEWHAT OF A NORMAL LIFE. SOMEWHAT. I KNOW IT’S NEVER GOING TO BE COMPLETELY NORMAL. -MICHAEL JORDAN
I can’t shake the feeling responsible for the ridiculous action my eyes have been doing each and every time a certain thought crosses my mind. I feel a little broken because I stepped out of my comfort zone, my protective bubble, and disregarded my desire to always put myself first. For one night I wanted to have a normal life; a life so many 20 somethings enjoy when they are kid free. I can’t say it was awful, because it wasn’t, but I can say it was bittersweet. So, so bittersweet.
I suited up in neon garb to join my bestie since 7th grade as she celebrated her final fling. I wouldn’t have missed this evening for anything because she is a constant in my life and constants are hard to come by. Heck, I was so proud of myself because I was going to make it happen, and because I was stepping away from my workload for the weekend. The lack of feeling in my feet dance moves wouldn’t phase girls I have known since overplucking eyebrows was cool. Self conscious obstacle #1- destroyed.
Fast forward to my normal life evening… Walking. Trippy mirror maze. Walking. Shit, my legs are done and it’s only 9pm. Fuck my life.
Whatever, tonight it’s not about me.
Thankfully one of my sober girlfriends looped arms with me as we walked to the bar. And then it happened.
“And there is the girl who is so drunk she needs help walking.”
I died a little inside. His words pierced my chest like a razor sharp dagger because I wasn’t THAT drunk. The steps I took following his words twisted said dagger and shattered my heart to the point of my having to write it all down in this post. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to step outside of my modified version of a normal life?
Whatever, tonight it’s not about me.
Insert more walking and a car ride to the next bar, the fun bar, where dancing would ensue. The dancing that resulted in my ass firmly planted on the ground because my poor excuse for tree trunks stopped working on multiple occasions. Sigh…
Was it worth it? Yes. Did it remind me I don’t belong in large groups of 20 somethings? Yes. Will I ever get used to it? No, not even a little used to it because I desperately yearn for what once was.
So, the moral of the story is this:
- Be thankful each and every morning you wake up, and cherish what you are capable of doing.
- Don’t verbalize something unless you really know what’s going on because you probably don’t know the whole story.
Regardless, congratulations to my Christmas hooker. The broad who used to make me watch as she played stupid video games with my brother, in his ghetto bed, because she had a crush on him. The girl I influenced in all the wrong ways. I love her in a non get in my bed sort of way.
