Rooted, I used to think.

Profile - Archive- RSS
Notes - Email - Diaryland

Purgatory - Sunday, Feb. 10, 2019
Day Fifteen - Saturday, Feb. 09, 2019
Day Fourteen - Saturday, Feb. 09, 2019
Day Thirteen - Thursday, Feb. 07, 2019
Atonement - Thursday, Feb. 07, 2019

Friday, Jul. 18, 2014 @ 7:54 pm

I have the apartment to myself for the weekend, and I find myself missing D. Normally I'm so relieved to have the space to myself. I'm glad to have this feeling, as so often I wonder if I'm just spending my life waiting around to have an hour to myself.

I was sitting on the Skytrain the other day, sweating, being lulled by the rhythms of acceleration, braking, and track rattle, and I suddenly found myself falling into the dark well of existence. Thinking of how this is my life, and am I going to wake up from it at some point, and that time is limited and that someday I will be old, that I am never present in this life, that I make these decisions and travel through the world and it's all so surreal and who am I and am I alive and what happens when I'm not here and how do I know I'm alive and how much time is there and what happens in the end... and my heart is racing and my stomach starts to churn and my head is spinning. And the train rattles back and forth and the man in front of me smells like either cumin or body odor or probably both and I slide down deep into my seat, felled by the weight of existence. Taking deep breaths and holding back tears. What happens if you think too much about that stuff? Do you actually die? Because when I think about that stuff my brain sort of folds in on itself and the world becomes dark and my heart races faster and faster until I distract myself to think about something else like Instagram or the fact that blueberries are currently $2/lb.

And then the next day, the train lurches to a stop between stations, and control comes on the PA to tell us that there's a big problem and that we aren't going to be moving for a while. Up there in the air in a train with a pile of people who just want to get home who have just been told that their night has been ruined. I started to daydream about how this is exactly the moment where two people meet and eventually fall in love and get married and start a new lineage of people all because the train's communication system exploded at 5pm one day.

I received notice of my annual raise via email yesterday. It was a mistake, and someone was supposed to offer it to me instead of it appearing in my inbox. It was around what I was expecting - enough to say that I'm wanted but not enough to inflate my ego. But the delivery was pretty lacking, and it didn't leave any room for bartering, and I just don't have the heart to fight for more right now. It's good enough.

I think about Chris every day. Is that weird? Why am I so obsessed with this? I'm reading a book right now that's awful and predictable, but D's mom loaned it to me so now I am obligated to read it and tell her that I loved it. She has awful literary taste. Anyhow, the point is that in this book the woman is divorced and in a bad common law relationship, and it's so predictable that she's somehow going to end up with this guy who was her highschool boyfriend who's magically appeared back in her life. So I'm constantly thinking about how if someone was reading my life, they'd totally think that I'll end up with Chris. And probably hope it, because they're sick of reading me complain and struggle with D.

Hah, that was a total brain dump. That's what happens when you stay at work late on a Friday drinking Mike's Hard Lemonade and doing Jell-O shooters in the lunchroom.

Roots | Shoots