Spiders, Roaches, & Jessica Rabbit

There are moments where I pause and just think to myself:

I—
suck.

I’m sure everyone feels like this at one beat or another.

It’s this damn heart of mine. I feel like it lingers more than other people’s do.

I’m not sure why that is.

You’re talking to someone, you’re excited, the connection has promise, there’s hope, and—

WHAM!

Over.

They’re gone.

The 100 conversations you’ve shared are replaced with silence. No calls. No texts. No nothing. Strangers again.

Instantly, with one decision and one conversation.

And this is where I struggle. My life experience has taught me to take this information and make sense of it, and historically that has been something awful like: “you’re not good enough, and everyone leaves you.”

Reprogramming that voice is hard. Even though that’s a blatantly poor view of self. The voice is sneaky. You know? It’s disguised. Like a trapdoor spider waiting to pop out of the shadows and chomp your ass off. You have to be on offense all the time from danger you can’t see.

I just told my friend Fernando this the other day.

We were talking about mental health and the process of transforming yourself into a stronger, better person.

I said, “Gurrrrrrrrrl. Why is it so hard to fix yourself? I mean, I am so tired. I feel like I have to fight and fight my own brain. A negative thought pops in, and I’m like an exterminator chasing a cockroach: No ma’am. You can’t be here. (Bug bomb. PSSSSSHHH!) But there’s always another roach. And then your crazy, unhealthy self is just over there winking at you, flipping her hair like Jessica Rabbit, as if to say, Hey baby, let me drive for a while. And you want to, because it’s easier than all this bug killing and changing and trying to be better—

But you can’t. There’s no place for her anymore.

You know what I mean?”

“You really are an idiot,” he told me laughing.

He’s right lol.

I was thinking about this when I walked into the building lobby tonight. I rounded the bend to grab a package from the concierge, and I ran into the boy and his new boyfriend. Yes, they live in my building. I know—“move over, Sarah Jessica Parker.”

It’s very strange to stand in space with someone you shared your life with for six years and pretend like you’re strangers—

But then, we are strangers.

The person who loved him isn’t here anymore.

I said hello and smiled.
And they said hello back.
And we went on our way.

(Stamps a roach)