If Wishes were Greyhounds

 

Sometimes wishes come true.

Saturday night at work I was outside in the corner smoking and I had a crystal clear thought “I wish Oscar would come by, I would feel a lot better if he did.”

To be clear, Oscar is a rescue Greyhound from Florida. His nightly walks take him by the bar and we have bonded. He feels like warm silk and puts his head on my shoulder and sighs.

30 seconds later, Oscar!

I saw them coming 30 feet away and his owner did something he’d never done before, dropped the leash and let Oscar run to me, full derpy Greyhound tilt.

He has become one of the only things I love about my job. It’s time for a new job. We will get to that another day.

I did feel a lot better. Put a cramp in my night of wallowing, or lessened the cramp.
But I had such grand plans.

Walked in the door issuing storm warnings.

Then someone put on Jeopardy and the tequila started flowing. I got fed. Everyone danced to music I liked. I only did three shows they went well.
What the fuck guys?
I wanted to be sad girl.

“I’m tellin’ all y’all its a sabotage.” Beastie Boys

No it isn’t. Well it is, but I did it to myself.

You see dear readers…

I fucked up.

There is gold in them there words.

There is magic in all words, that’s why they call it spelling.

Life becomes a little less magical when I fuck up the same way every fucking time, and my mantra becomes ‘why do I always get thrown away?’

The waitress called me beautiful and I cried at the bar. “Obviously I’m not pretty enough.”

Oh, god, I have said this before.

This is all just a little bit of history repeating.
Second verse same as the first.
Saturn/Cronos is up there laughing at me. I can hear him loud and clear.

The gods don’t abide whining, especially not Cronos the Titan, father of all Gods, time and lessons. He always answers with a great thundering “I’ll give you something to cry about.”

I know exactly why I get thrown, because they know if they drop me I have soft places to land.

BECAUSE I FUCKING TELL THEM I HAVE SOFT PLACES TO LAND.

What the fuck is wrong with me? (See above)

How many times are we going to do this Sarah?

Once too many.

But not again.

You can become deathly allergic to bee stings if you get stung enough. The venom builds up and one day your heart just says ‘fuck this shit’ and stops.

They also use bee venom to treat MS. So there is that then. Controlled stinging reactivating atrophied musculature.

Same sting that stopped me in my tracks and got me moving again, different trajectory. Thanks honey.

I have been lied to so often that it is abhorrent to me. It physically hurts me to be lied to and I can spot a falsehood a million miles away. Addendum, I can spot a lie as long as the person telling it is not so mentally ill and pathological that they actually believe what they are saying. But I am done turning that one over. Let’s put that one in a pine box and move on. So mote it be.

I can’t lie now. I spent years training myself not to and I just can’t, makes me feel sick to even think of one.

Leah screamed at me this morning “do not to tell the new ones about the others”, my collection of lost boys. The Hulk told me that too. Should have asked the colossus about the giant instead of a lost boy.

But omission is the kissing cousin to lying. So what do I do?

Stop.

For a girl who believes so deeply in free will and natural order and everything is as it should be I say a lot of stupid shit.

Out of fear.

I realized a few days ago that my adamant non monogamy is not as adamant as I thought it was.
It’s a self-defence mechanism/bullshit posturing and it backfired.
On a long enough timeline all weapons become outdated and dangerous really.
This blew up in my face.
The realization came a little too late.

I also chose advice from others over my own intuition. The one I leaned on was the wrong one. Chosen for his age, not how things went. He dated the one AFTER me, not me.
How many times can I ask what is wrong with me before I fix it?

242

For a psychic witch of a girl, my foresight sucks.

I’m lying now. I knew. I knew right away. I always know. I even said it to him, told him I wanted to keep him, but not until a week after that crystal clear thought manifested itself. And after the damage had already been done.

“My stupid mouth has got me in trouble again”. John Mayer

I know I fucked up. I cannot fix the past.

But I can do better next time.

The Gods smile when you smile and say ‘please sir can I have some more.’

“Accepting all I’ve done and said,
I want to stand and stare again,
Until there’s nothing left out.”
Peter Gabriel

More. Please. Thank you.

I am mutable. Everything changes, even me, eventually.

Today’s titanic lesson?

If I meet the right kind of man, I don’t want anyone else.

Time for my lost boys to stay lost. Go on now, git.

Moving forward I am not going to start something new in a place where I have safety nets manifesting as arms and beds belonging to other men that I can climb into. If I wanted to date any of my lost boys I would be, instead of just fucking them from time to time.

It makes me seem disposable, having disposables.

I haven’t been fair to any of us.

The last (now lost) boy kept saying over and over “You aren’t a booty call.”

He is right, I’m not.

I have enough grace to walk alone. No nets.

I’m not afraid anymore.

Falling isn’t so bad. Feels kind of like flying actually, unencumbered.

The next time I meet someone I’ll be able to say truthfully “I’m not seeing anyone right now. I would love to have dinner and see what happens.”

Then we can have dinner and see what happens.

I’ve never had a good relationship, but I hear that’s how they start.

Spring is coming. Feels like a good time to begin again.

“So shed your skin and let’s get started.” Hunters & Collectors