broken glass…

It’s you I’m talking to, and memories are still talking to me about you. You’re everywhere in me, in my life, in the air I breathe, in the cherry tree in the garden, in my belly. It’s you, my love. I’m talking to. It’s God I talk to when I pray. I always pray. Without thinking, words growin the tunnels of my head. I can’t write or read, but I can stop time. I capture the moment and remember it later, even the scream, I can still hear them.”

~Sylvie Matton

Yesterday, having just gotten lost on the way to an interview, having said goodbye to R. for most of the summer, having arrived late at the said interview, stumbling in unprepared I questioned myself.

Why am I at an interview for a job I don’t want?

I just half-listened as he explained the process, my mind wandering to other subjects even as I was answering questions in a monotone voice. I was elsewhere. I’ve been elsewhere for awhile.

I’ll talk to Sara tomorrow about helping me find a summer job. I’ve always wanted to be a waitress. I have to laugh every time I hear people say that teachers get paid too much. It’s not too often that a person who has a full-time job has to get a part-time job in order to make enough money to pay bills. Then again I always think that teachers get paid enough–but not in money. Through other means–seeing and helping students succeed.

I’ve pretty much given up on interviews. I refuse to move to an area I don’t like just to get a new job. If I’m moving, it’s because the job is wonderful and the area is nice as well.

I feel like taking a glass bottle and slamming it against concrete. Then drenching it in glue so it doesn’t move and writing in bright red lipstick around it “this is me.”

I also feel like throwing up.

I don’t feel well.

I found my wedding dress today. It was actually a skirt. White, looked like a cowgirl’s outfit. With lace layers to it. It was poofy. Had a big leather belt attached. It was at the same time one of the most beautiful and one of the most hideous skirts I have ever seen.

I walked through the mall today with RAchel. Reminds me of walking through the mall as a teenager with Hy. We stopped at every make-up and perfume counter to ohh and awww over the selection. Stopping to hold up various skirts and fancy dresses, trying on endless amounts of clothing with no intention to buy. And then the bath and body works store. Buying ridiculous amounts of sweetly sickening lotions and oils. Walking by the Victoria Secret store only to look away as a scantily clad model begged those walking by to enter if they so dared.

I felt out of place.

I always do.

Where do I fit in? What’s the point? The only thing in the mall that captured my interest was a small box of candy for sale in a store.

Chocolate.

The bookstore. One book out of all the others called out to me. It was right next to novels by one of my favorite authors. I read the first three paragraphs and fell in love with her style as a writer.

Add another book to my summer reading list. They sit gathering dust while I slowly drift away, lost.

And here I am. Back where I started.