When I get there I’m going to lift all of you up with me. I don’t want to be there alone.
When I get there I’ll pull all of you by your smooth hands to stand in a tight knit little circle. I don’t want to be there alone.
I’ve kept quiet on here about several things that are more a part of my heart than anything, and I think it comes with age and the further shedding of my half-hearted Catholic background, but right now I’m ready to part the Red Sea and ignore my secret websites and let everything be poured out into one place instead.
When my heart is so full that it sloshes and spills I’m going to pull you all up with me. I will be unafraid even though I think my parents and my sister read this site (and I request that they respectfully look away and shut the door if they’re embarrased by anything they read or see here – none of it is personal and all of it is personal. All of it is fiction and all of it is true). I want to pull all of you up, too, because I don’t want to be there alone.
I’ll be terribly and wildly unafraid of baring my teeth and acting my age and lamenting the loss of my inhibitions. All is unfettered now. But I don’t want to be there alone.
I’ve been an emotional recluse, a true Aquarius, ever since I sprung forth from my mother on January 24, 1979. I have locked up my heart and played hard to get but the lion’s loose through the zoo now and I don’t want it to have to go back. I like the company now. I don’t want to be there alone.
I used to play and dance with my kid all the time. Before I began hating myself and punishing myself and swallowing myself whole. I used to dance and play music and sing instead of just talking and listening and laughing softly. I’m sorry if he’s wondered where his mother went when she’s been here all along. The cover was over my cage, was all. I couldn’t see to sing. Have you ever had canaries? You have to keep the sheet over their cage until you’re ready to hear the endless trilling. The moment the light hits their tiny black eyes they begin. I haven’t taken the sheet off of my cage for almost two years. Someone, lift it off – I don’t want to be here alone.
I am done with second guessing and mindless focus and crying over bowls of popcorn. I will tell you when I think you look pretty and I will tell you when I think you’re writing beautifully and I will stop running into my kennel every time you start to get close. There is more square footage in my heart and there are cobwebs in the corners and I promise not to shrink at your advances this time. I don’t want to be here alone.
I will allow myself to laugh along with my husband when he reminds me that I’m neurotic and I will listen to him when he tells me that I’m beautiful. I will stop and drink in every word and every look he utters. I will tell him when he’s especially handsome and I will touch his arm when I notice another woman staring at him. He’s worthy to be stared at. I do it all the time.
I will stop hiding in the bathroom.
I will stop typing this – because I want to be reading The Namesake right now and I am falling in love with Jhumpa Lahiri.