Where would we be without wishful thinking?

Hey Magellan,

Wowza, another week has gone by. I’m slowly but surely recovering from the festivities of last weekend’s shenanigans. The rain and myself have returned to Seattle. There was supposed to be some super storm, but really it just rained a little more, and the wind blew a little harder. Not a stranger to the wind, it didn’t really seem like a big deal but rather a sense of familiarity.

I have been having an entirely too hard of a time getting work done. As I type I’m parked in a coffee shop yet composing thoughts to you instead of writing my articles. I almost got taken off a project, but I managed to persuade my way back on. It’s stressful, when your income gets threatened to be taken away from you. I won another project over an other writer, so I guess I have that going for me.

I tried to go on a date last night. I mean, I went and had a lovely time with another human but today I just feel like crying because the whole anticipation and execution of the whole thing is over and I’ll likely never see them again (though I did get a good polaroid) and I still have to just keep going out into the world with the painful optimism that someone out there is hoping to find me just as much as I them. The waiting! The waiting really is the hardest part.

A year ago I was in a relationship with someone and there were moments where I actually believed that perhaps, for once in my life it was a person who might stick around for I don’t know, ever. I had a happy companionship with a person and I started envisioning what an entire lifetime would look like beside them and it was a simple future I was actually starting to think I was capable of having. But then, something happened. It became apparent that my daydreams of ginger-haired babies and combined Chanukah-Christmas traditions  we really only just a healthy dose of wishful thinking.

We were going to be a pair of mittens for Halloween. It isn’t relevant whether I was supposed to be the right or the left but the fact of the matter is I didn’t want to be a fucking mitten. I asked the question. I did it knowing full well the outcome but I asked it anyways. “Do you think of me long term.” And he didn’t. And then like that it was over. This person whom I had developed a fondness and familiarity just vanished from my life. Without a fight, as if I meant nothing and was merely some girl he had passed on the street.

Getting over it wasn’t him, but this idea of a somewhat “normal” and partnered version of life. It just felt like oh great, another person didn’t fucking pick me. I mean, holy hell. What is the definitive choice I made that has had me on this solo adventure for one for so fucking long? I like to believe I am kind in relationships, thoughtful and even a little more gentler of a human. And this shit was over a year ago and I still just don’t know how to feel about it. If someone gets past that wall it’s like they will always stay there, these various little people-shaped holes in my heart.

I just thought I’d have so much more figured out by now. This whole career transition/development thing is so stressful compounded with the fact that if I fail I have no one in my corner. If I run out of money I’m fucked. I walked away from a perfectly mediocre position at a non-profit that most people could have coasted at for nearly a lifetime. Should I have done that?

And then the whole partner thing. Maybe it’s the absence of having a physical best friend here, or the fact that my soul sister is getting married. “Stop looking, do what you love… they’ll come a long.” It’s so fucking easy for people who aren’t worried about all the plates crashing to earth to say that but how the fuck can I not look? How can I not feel like there is some secret of the universe that everyone else has access too? Why is there no one to make me breakfast and just fucking hold me when I am fucking terrified that none of this is going to work out.

Anywhoo… Sorry for all that. I don’t want to spend so much time thinking about these things but I just do. What did you say, “peaks and cannons” or something like that? It’s this soul-crushing optimism (which I REFUSE to give up). I allow every single day a chance to be something new and amazing, and even admit that even a modest day is a good day. At least I’m getting back out in the world again. Maybe I should get a dog.

Be glad you got out before you really got to know me. I’m the hottest mess that was ever nearly fully functional. I can’t believe it’s already mid-October. I can’t believe I’ve been single for a year. I’m not sure what I’m going to be this year for Halloween but I sure as hell ain’t going to be a fucking mitten.




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