Splattering as Raindrops (Not Rainbows)
It is very nearly 3:30 in the morning and I am awake staring at this stupid scratch-off that Dustin got for me and somewhere in my lungs the resentment starts to build. Who am I kidding? The resentment has been building and building, stacks of it lining my lungs until I feel like I can never breathe again. So I smoke another cigarette, and now it’s thundering and it feels so primal that I want to go outside and shiver with it. I want to kick the rain right in its face. The lightning just flashed and the crack of thunder was the loudest expletive I’ve ever heard and I jumped nearly out of my DNA.
The resentment I feel doesn’t even make sense because i’m only upset that I have to be an adult. I have to make these decisions and stick to them and it’s sort of sad because i’m stomping my foot like a petulant child, begrudgingly pleading with God to restore my life to its previous grandeur. I do not deserve the grandeur but it does not matter because I want to be selfish and sad and alone.
I have the thirst of curiosity and it is never satiated, no matter how content I convince myself that I am. I am always the one who wonders, despite the futility of it, despite the heartache it causes. I am always the one who chooses to torture herself with possibilities instead of quietly accepting what is.
I like how I have learned from the past. My intuition is strong enough (usually) to decipher what will come to pass. So, noting the holes in my memories, I resolve to memorize things. So I know things about Brandon I would not have known had I not been so careful. I observed the set of his face as he moved over me. I noted the southern drawl that crept into his carefully-chosen words in the car. I remember telling myself, "Remember this, for it will not last for much longer" and it didn’t. However, I remain disappointed in the fact that I cannot keep reliving the feelings; they are gone because feelings are fleeting. Decisions, on the other hand, are forever.
My character is garbage right now and I cannot stand it. If I stretch hard enough, I feel like I could morph back into that carelessly happy girl of last September. But I cannot stretch that far, even on my tiptoes, even sparkling with the best happiness I can dredge up at the moment. I am changed and there is nothing else to do but continue to grow.
I wish I were less selfish and I am pining to take a yoga class even though I will only go for a few times and back out as usual. I have the ability to change but my inherent laziness blockades my progress. I blockade my own progress. And I do not deserve lemon-drop sunsets with his hands (& crinkling blond hair) over mine nor the memories of the dark-haired one telling me that he loves me. I deserve to sit here and feel these miserable, debilitating feelings and figure out what it is that I need to do.
Until then, I am going to taste menthol and forget dreams and forgo sleep because these things are me and I cannot be less of me, only more.
Love,
Amanda