in that place

I am in that scary-ish place where life seems to be making sense and yet it feels awfully hollow, like I've got it all figured out but there's no satisfaction in having it be comfortable. I am fine. Things are good. I am paying my bills. My apartment is nice. I have a good family that loves me. I have great friends who care for me. My jobs are fulfilling (what's more amazing than contributing to the growth and development of another living being?). Nothing is wrong here.

and yet,

the love of my lifetime is a slippery being who eyes me with distrust and distances himself away from me in ways that hurt more than a month of his self-proposed exile. we are as good as we can be and I have even managed to find a way into his blackened heart, but he is holding himself tightly for someone that is not me. And as much as I know that, I cannot turn away from him and his defective version of love. I love him so much that even the toned down carefully scripted version of him is worth it.

there is the feeling that there is always something I could be doing that I should have done that I'm not doing because I'm a selfish jerk with attention deficit disorder thanks to that shithole job I can't stop working in.

there are those few people whose attentions I could do without, whose flavor digusts me, whose turns of phrases make me want for the friends whose eloquence far surpasses the slugs I sit across from, and when the opportunity comes to brush them away, I don't.

and get this, I am stubbornly reading a terrible first novel just because someone gave it to me to read which I promptly dirtied up in my typical way (it spent one week in my jungle of a purse) and now have to buy the person a new unfilthy copy of a book I didn't even really want to read anyway.

see the pattern? I do. And part of me is afraid that moving to a new state for a new school is a fancy grown up version of discarding the half lived life I've had here and try and make it somewhere newly, as a butterfly instead of an uncharming cocoon with some potential for something greater, full of promise and nothing more.

I have a great fear of failure and somewhere in this pattern is the set up for what feels like the inevitable rejection letter from Iowa, a place I have arbitrarily chosen as the place for me without any research into it whatsoever (which has not done me wrong in the past, and served Cher pretty well in Kiss the Girls).

Luckily, I have sabotaged my old self that persists in many lizard brain ways and the things that are a shock to me, the things that I now accomplish with ease, the fact that anything I put my mind to gets done means I will fail (if I do get rejected) in a different way than before: At least I did something else. And then, I kept doing something else.