Wake me up before you go
You ever wondered, at a happy pivotal moment, where you’d be in a year? In a fleeting kind of almost pained way even, I have wondered. I have thought to myself, ‘If I could just freeze this moment for all of my life, I would be fine.’ A year ago I wondered earnestly if my life could get any better. I had gotten out of a bizarre and no longer fulfilling relationship and into an intense, almost spiritual, relationship with my best friend. This best friend and I had been secretly in love for quite some time and coming together was like the culmination of what I felt I was meant to be. I was watching Firefox one morning that looked quite a lot like this one, and he fell asleep in my arms. I’m watching it again now. I would have wondered where I am now, and I think I could rest comfortably knowing.
We moved out together, into am unnecessarily large two bedroom flat in his hometown. He was twenty-four when he moved, and it was from his parents’ house for the first time. I felt so honoured that it was with me. We have lived here for almost a year. The mornings are beautiful with the forest, a thick lush playground, behind us, and the bustling street full of laughing, crying, innocent children. The air is polluted, this I know, but it feels like I breathe in life each time. I quit smoking after six years of it, and I feel healthier already. I got a car and my long awaited driver’s license. I got a tattoo, the triple goddess symbol, bold black on my right forearm. I’m probably dragging my sorry ass to college next semester. I’m reading, I’m writing, I’m learning. I’m ok. Nobody’s ever just great. But I know I have it better than a lot. I’m young and in love. It doesn’t so much matter what my father did to me or that I led an adolescent life similar to a Lifetime movie of kids gone wrong. I feel so bloated from quitting smoking, I’m tired all the time except when I should be sleeping. Times such as now. I should be totally asleep. But fuck it, ya know? I’m me again, I was lost for a couple years. I’m still that punk who can pull off any look I want and drop shit whenever I feel. Does that make me an asshole? I still smoke pot and drink wine straight from the bottle as I wonder around topless through my apartment. I can still give my boyfriend a lap dance and not feel weird or ashamed. I don’t care that I have a Canadian accent, or that my eyes are never green when someone points it out, or that I never have any underwear. I have given up on the silly goddamn labels. I’m not a punk or goth, I’m just me. I’m bisexual. No one ever said I had to choose, I’ve chosen a mate that happens to be a boy, but I never forget that I’m not straight. I don’t care anymore what people have to say about that because it isn’t the general publics’ business what gender I prefer to bed. I value my worth in how many movies I own and whether or not YOU have seen them. I’m silly and inconsequential. My blog will more than likely accurately represent that value of mine. Politics, random links, religion, pretty much anything going on in my life – I’m not too particular.
I’ll leave you with this, potential readers, my lovelies, I am a firm believer that there is beauty in everything and everyone. Something outstanding that beats out everyone else, something truly wonderful, is in all of us, and it’s always different. Well, except maybe Jerry Falwell, but he’s dead.
~she~
