You wake up and wonder if you’ll ever hear the story of an accidental death and not think that person was lucky. But you’re trying to not take any big kinds of chances with your own life anymore. You’re not walking alone late at night or even considering getting a motorcycle. Life is even, at times eventful, but mostly you can anticipate what will happen each day. So, those accidental kinds of deaths seem especially peaceful.
You’ve got a crush again and that’s got the same frustrations of any other crush you’ve ever had. Even if they like you, they don’t like you enough. Either they don’t like you enough because you just think they don’t, always questioning it, waking them up to ask “Do you like me enough?”, knowing that Jesus, duh, don’t wake a man and ask him that. Or they don’t like you enough to announce to the world that they like you and come morning you rub your feet together alone in bed and have a cry over how maybe it’ll always be this hard.
“Look,” you tell yourself, “plenty of people do like you enough. It’s just that they’re not the people you like enough.” And you think about how their realities are similar to yours, but there’s nothing to be done. Some time a long time ago you heard “don’t settle” enough times for it to finally stick. But it’s not like you have a list of qualities. You’re not silly enough to think that’s a good idea. You just find yourself liking a person and you think that this time, it’s going to work out how you want.
You have things alright, or as alright as they’re able to be. You look okay for what you’ve been through. You feel okay for what you’re going through. You are okay for what’s going on. Everything has a qualifier. And that’s okay, for what it’s worth.
Tonight, on the bus, the same two women will talk about where they think they should go for Happy Hour. You won’t agree that Cheese Cake Factory is a good idea, at all. But, it’s not your place to get involved. When you’re walking to your door, trying not to step on those weird pointy balls that fall from the trees along Fulton, the seeds of a sweet gum tree (small delight inside of you to know the name of the tree), you will pass the same couple that you always pass. They will be walking close enough that you’ll think “You guys should probably be professional three-legged racers.” And she’ll have a smile on her face and they’ll be talking about things like they’ve never had a conversation before. You’ll feel happy for them, truly, and sad for you, truly.
Then you’ll get home and you’ll open the fridge five or six times, like you’ll eventualy see something in there to be excited over.
Sigh. Summer will be here soon. At least there’s that.