Remember when you were five years old and didn’t get what you wanted and cried your eyes out until you fell asleep and woke up feeling dehydrated and spent and as though you couldn’t face the world?
Or when you were nine years old and got the flu or the chicken pox or food poisoning and your entire body just ached and wanted to be held and comforted?
Or when you were 16 and had your heart broken for the first time and you were convinced that life has ended because the one person you loved more than anyone had rejected you and if that person couldn’t love you then who would?
Or the first time your bank account was overdrawn or you’d gotten a flat tire or found out someone was cheating on you or you failed the test you were sure you’d aced or you fell down in front of everyone on the playground or you farted in class or you mispronounced “Jung” or you threw up in the hallway?
Take all of that and it’s how I feel today.
Everything is on autopilot. I’m moving in two days. I couldn’t care less what stays or goes. If everyone came and stole everything I’d be ecstatic. I don’t want it. I’m tired of it. I want to throw it all away and start over. This is probably the best feeling to have when deciding what to keep and what to throw away. Even my beloved books feel like an albatross.
This is my life. I need to read Harold Kushner again to remind myself that the universe isn’t being vindictive and that I’m hardly a special case. As if.
Off to the store for boxes. I’m biting the bullet, getting bankers boxes and going from there. I have a coupon for the office supply store. You don’t need tape. Minimal. That’s me.