homing

On my way home from work one sunny morning, there was an injured pigeon in the middle of Ashland Avenue. It was tumbling over itself, unable to stand, its broken leg thrust into the air. I drove past, but glanced once more into my rearview only to see another car veer into the stranded bird.

I cried the rest of the way home. I cried up the steps of my building. I cried into my instant oatmeal, and in the shower. I cried in bed while I did a Tuesday crossword to fall asleep. I cried when I woke up that afternoon. I cried while I scooped the coffee grounds, and while I loaded the dishwasher.

Was I crying for the bird, or was I crying for myself, because I needed someone, because even if I could do everything on my own I didn’t want to, and I missed him, I missed him more than I would ever admit?

But then the tears did stop, and I went back to work again that night.

After all, it was only a pigeon.

the graduate

It’s been four years since I got divorced, since the world ended, since I went a little bit crazy. 

Four years feels significant. Academically speaking, I should have graduated by now. 

It’s been an education being on my own, figuring out how to be me again, how to be with someone else. I wasn’t always a good student, but I’ve been trying lately.

Some days I feel great, maybe because I don’t feel anything much right now.

I go to work, I smile, I make my little jokes. I come home to my perfect isolation, where the cherry blossom tree blooms right outside my window. In my pink cocoon, sometimes I cook an elaborate dinner, like we used to. Sometimes I eat a pint of blueberries and go to bed before I get hungry again.

Routine helps. I’m stronger than ever at the gym, but I notice my face looks frail. I wonder if a man will ever call me beautiful again. 

I still think too much about the person I’m meant to forget, the person who was never my husband. When I try to be honest with myself, I wonder if he ever really knew me. What was the last question he ever asked me, about me? I couldn’t say. I think I bored him.

I don’t ask why anymore. 

But I know what I know: I was sweet and considerate and a little bit selfish. I didn’t shy from his touch. And I never lied or cheated or stole or kept the most important thing from him, which was that I loved him. 

So I’ll do my best to commit to memory the night he let me believe the worst, and sat motionless as I walked out. And the drive home alone, blinded by the snowfall and my own tears.

That was an education too. Maybe this time I’ll graduate. 

taylor swift stole my break up

Some notes from The Tortured Poets Department, aka the texts I never sent:

Fortnight
All of this to say, I hope you’re okay

I love you, it’s ruining my life

The Tortured Poets Department
And who’s gonna know you, if not me?

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys
Once I fix me
He’s gonna miss me

Down Bad
'Cause fuck it, I was in love
So fuck you if I can't have us

So Long, London
Thinkin’ how much sad did you think I had
Did you think I had in me?

And you say I abandoned the ship
But I was going down with it

But Daddy I Love Him
I forget if this was ever fun

Fresh Out the Slammer
Splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter

Guilty As Sin
Am I allowed to cry?

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?
So tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is?
Then say they didn’t do it to hurt me, but what if they did?

I Can Do It with a Broken Heart
I cry a lot, but I am so productive, it’s an art

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived
But you are what you did

The Black Dog
I just don’t understand how you don’t miss me

imgonnagetyouback
Told my friends I hate you, but I love you just the same

The Albatross
Cross your thoughtless heart
Only liquor anoints you

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus
If you wanna break my cold, cold heart
Say you loved me

How Did It End?
I can’t pretend like I understand

So High School
Tell me ‘bout the first time you saw me

Cause I feel so high school every time I look at you
But look at you

No one’s ever had me like you

I Hate It Here
I’m lonely, but I’m good
I’m bitter, but I swear I’m fine

thank you aimee
But when I count the scars, there’s a moment of truth
That there wouldn’t be this if there hadn’t been you

I Look in People’s Windows
I’m afflicted by the not knowing

Does it feel alright to not know me?

The Prophecy
A greater woman wouldn’t beg

Let it once be me

Peter
I thought it was just goodbye for now