It’s 11:54 p.m., and I want a friendly conversation, yet I do want to be an imposition.
Hell, I’m not very sure what I want to talk about... maybe just babbling and blathering... and hoping that some strange magic falls into place and gives me a clear direction for navigating these holidays?
I want to voice these doubts, these fears. I want to be vulnerable, but I doubt 5 minutes would suffice. I suppose part of me wants clear validation that I am wanted... I suppose...
There’s some guilt, I suppose, in questioning you, as to the last time that you tried to honestly connect with me (beyond our Facebook likes and ha-ha’s, which so easily get lost in the shuffle)... there’s guilt, also, in reflecting the question, and asking myself, “when was the last time that I tried to honestly reach out to you?” (I know so much of my life gets sucked into big media, including all the bells and whistles of the internet.)
I know that I downplay what I could do, excusing it through lack of transportation and lack of finances. What, for many of you, is but a five minute trip in your car, becomes at least an hour trek for me, walking and bussing. What, for many of you, is a $20 purchase, without a thought, becomes the dilemma for me of paying that or paying for rent, but never able to do both...
So, now, I’m talking with myself, whistling the blues in the corner. Why does it have to be s conversation? Because it’s so much harder to gain a third-party perspective on my life, when there’s no third-party present?
I do not know what I’ll do next. Prudence says that I should just sleep it away; but that sure does sound like procrastination, too.