I’m a record on repeat. The only person I want to tell things to is my grandma. Now I cry to all my friends and listen to their wisdom instead. It’s not the same as grandma-level wisdom, but I’m grateful to have a group of women in my life I can turn to. Everyone is so different and it makes me smile, sigh, laugh, cry, pause, explain, listen, analyze, think, and breathe.
I don’t regret anything last night. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the realization I could do whatever the hell I wanted with no one to hold me accountable, but myself, that made me so emotional. It’s a feeling that’s so heavy and burdensome to know you really are on your own. The guy acknowledged the realness of being by yourself, away from your friends and family. He said, “When you fuck up, you really fuck up.”
But yesterday wasn’t a fuck up. It was an experience. It was a big deal and a small deal. It was just life. But for someone as inexperienced as me, holding hands and cuddling is still, “Whoa, what!” I’m glad I didn’t let things escalate though. I know I would have regretted the night if I did anything more than what went down, with someone I just met, at someone else’s apartment, and all while inebriated. It was a first meeting. I don’t think there will be more.
Tomorrow is a Saturday. I have work in the morning so maybe I can do something fun at night. I’m missing the metro. I’m getting solid hours at my job and I’m happy the money flow is good, but I think I like days off more than I like money. I followed up on the interview and am “looking forward to hearing from them soon.” I’ll be disappointed if I don’t get the position. I really want to see how far I can push myself.
A friend from college tells me I need to give myself a break and I think that’s true. It’s only been two months since I’ve been out here and I’ve had experiences that have made other Californians go, “Gurl you wild.” Everybody wants to look out for me and I appreciate that so much. It’s a fine line, expanding your comfort zone without compromising yourself. I think I’m doing okay. I get back to my little room and I’m happy. I lay in bed and I’m happy. I sleep and I’m happy. I go on phở dates and I’m happy.
Things are back to equilibrium. This writing was necessary. I will probably slow down, though every day has been work and will only get more so, hopefully. It’s the non-work things that fuck me up, but I’m growing and learning and still alive. That’s all that matters.
I miss my brother and he looks to be doing well. He has a pack of neighborhood friends that tell him I’m pretty. They follow him around because they know what’s up and when he goes into the apartment, they knock on the door and he says, “Mom, those are my friends and I’m taking a break from them right now, don’t let them in.” Same as fuck. I love my little mans, on the same wavelength as me all the way in Tennessee.
A STOR¥ BY ? 