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About

This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

Hollow

It's funny how one night of bad sleep, and I wake up pissed off and cranky. How one day I can go from content with things in general, planning for the future to a cranky, uncomfortable, indecisive mess of a girl in her early 30's.

In the dark, I get all kinds of weird ideas. Things like how it would be so much better to get back together with an ex boyfriend. How things would be decided for me, the path of my life set out and I can mosey on along at my own pace, sure of what the next morning will bring. Day in. Day out. Comfort in the familiar.

then I talk to him. And I get pissed off that he's enjoying the tall poplar tree I planted in our old backyard so many years ago. I get pissed off when I hear it's grown taller than the house and looks great next to the crab apple trees. I get pissed off because he's gone on without me, happy in his 'new' life and unconcerned that I'm not there. Of course, there's a younger, prettier replacement warming his bed. Someone who's health and animal conscious. Someone who doesn't mind he stays up until 5 in the morning downloading games and his ambition to own an enormous house that they will never fill with a family. Just dogs, apparently.

This isn't what keeps me up at night, it's what sneaks into my mind when I can't sleep and I watch the light from cars driving by, make patterns on the ceiling of my bedroom. Lighting up for one moment, how empty I perceive everything that has to do with me, truly is at that moment in those hollow early morning hours.

I know it's wrong. I know it's not really what I want in the light of day. Is it normal, or healthy to be mad that he sounds like he is doing better than I am. Everything for me, in comparison seems to jumbled. Part of a bigger mess that I'm not really all that interested in cleaning up. It's hard to explain. The wants and apparent needs of the middle class group I should belong to aren't anything I normally aspire to. So when I yearn for the simple bland suburbia of modern life, it just makes me nauseaus and cranky.

I get cranky when I want the uninspired sort of life so many seem to lead. Because wouldn't it be a relief to be unaware for awhile? No more thinking.

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