Random Channel Surfing

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT

She doesn't mean to say the things she does. But somehow the words slip out and she sees it all in her eyes: I thought you were supposed to love me regardless of what I looked like, momma. She drops her daughter's gaze and continues picking up. "You know I'm right," she says. "If you continue eating the way you do, you won't fit into your prom dress. And it'd be a shame." She walks to the door, thinking that the only thing that's shameful about their exchange is the way her little girl's cheeks got red and she self-consciously adjusted her body, hiding her body. "I love you," she promises, leaving the room immediately, lest she heap more doubt and self-hatred. Whoever said being a mother was easy? They were lying.

How irresponsible would it be if I never come back from Montreal in June? Like, on a scale from one to ten, where one is "model daughter/friend/employee" and ten is "irresponsibly immature and self-centered"? 'Cause I can see myself "missing" my return flight home.

Life. Made.

But then I remember that I fall fast and hard like a rock you'd throw into the water, quickly sinking deeper and deeper. I remember that falling never, ever creeps up on me all of the sudden. I remember that I know - without a sliver of doubt - when I've fallen as soon as it happens, but can never see it coming. I remember that I can't stop it from happening and it literally leaves me short of breath like those times someone jumps out of corners to scare me. The feeling is exhilarating and frightening and, yes, even addictive. When I remember how I fall, I know I'm not falling in love and I can breathe a bit easier. Because falling in love has never been a positive experience. It's always ended and it's always hurt and it's always meant months and months and months and months of hurt.

Being self-aware enables me to really know myself. My thoughts and fears and desires. Even the ones I wish weren't mine. But it would be easier to live in denial. To ignore that I'm so stubborn I often ruin things that I love. To forget how much I fear the sting of rejection. To deny that I do want someone that knows me inside and out in my life. After all, there's truth to that old saying, "Ignorance is bliss."

It's Janis and Wyatt's annual Christmas party. I'm quite stoked, actually. It will be great seeing my girls. Not to mention all our other friends, hahaha. What I'm most pumped for, though, is playing dress-up! I know I could dress all girly and do my makeup and hair all fancy whenever I want to, but I never have a reason to. My mother would say that that's silly. That we dress the way we want to and you should dress up if you feel like it. I agree with my mom. Really, I do. But it takes so much energy. And this is that awkward moment I let you all in on a secret: I'm a scrub. Truth. Bomb.