I had to decide to stay or go. I walked into my room and opened the window and Ted was dead. I closed the window too hard to fast the night before and smushed him. I killed Ted.
Ted was the wild golden gecko who hung out on my ceiling and ate the mosquitos. Did this cute lil butt wiggle when I would talk to him.
Ted is dead and I am going home.
I used to believe in signs, omens. But this is just practicality. If I wait it’s a $2000 expense, and that is my bills for a while. Can’t waste it on a whim or a want. I used to do that, I am not that girl anymore. I am not anything anymore.
It is so weird to have a crisis of faith as a … whatever the fuck I am/was.
My religion or neurosis whichever you want to call it was never overly defined. It had no edges. No set rules.
I am honestly thinking I am mentally ill, and I fooled all y’all into thinking there was something more and I am so sorry.
This is what is.
I am too old for this shit. Too old to be believing in fairytales by about 40 years or so.
15 years past when I ought to have been getting married and paying into a mortgage.
46 is really old to just start adulting.
I used to think I had a purpose in life. What the fuck was wrong with me. Decades of delusions and here I am with nothing.
I used to think that if “I believe it I will see it”.
But the bizarre filing cabinet in my brain was making connections that were never there, seeing roses where there were only thorns and making unicorns out of dirty white horses.
I remember being broke as a joke my first month or two alone in Milton, still cleaning up the financial mess left by my ex while stripping in Ontario winter. Going to work in February at a strip club is a fool’s errand, every dancer knows this.
I had rescue dogs and I was out of dog food.
It was cold and I was running out of firewood.
Two things happened, a buddy of mine sent me $200 bucks out of the blue. We had coordinated a dog rescue together and I helped him out before, he repaid the karma. I got dog food. Then a customer of mine who knew I had 3 fireplaces to keep going offered to start bringing me broken down hardwood pallets to throw on the fire. Every Tuesday and Thursday he loaded up my trunk with banana boxes full of wood chunks. Those pieces burned better, longer and hotter than the 6 cords of wood I had bought from my neighbor and got me through till March.
I kept a couple unique looking pieces as decoration. Still have one of them.
There is good in the world. I will never deny that. but I saw those things as divine intervention. Saw chance meetings as fate. It’s just life.
The schadenfreude of the Redditors vs Wall Street and the #noflylist feels like the scales of social justice finally tipping in the favor of the common folk and it pleases me. I might even buy a little stock just for kicks.
My dog lives with her auntie Mikah now and I have enough food to exist and roof for now. I am lucky in this. I know that.
I did do DMT and I tried to talk to god and there was nothing.
Maybe this is a side effect of that.
Maybe I knew there was no magic in the world all along and I just needed something to keep me going.
It is really hard to keep going.
I have loved people who technically do love me back, but inactively.
I don’t get a happily ever after.
I get to wave my pom poms from the sidelines as they find “suitable” partners and make lives of their own, far away from me. I am left over in my corner trying to forget how excited they were about me once. My arms are tired and my heart hurts.
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……
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