Yellow Brick Road

Walking to my local coffee shop this morning, deep in thought per usual, I vaguely noticed lots of construction on Columbus street. Within the space of 24 hours they have torn up the lanes in both directions. Hopping from crosswalk to crosswalk I narrowly avoided a massive patch of tar newly sprayed on the deeply grooved road. I hopped onto the sidewalk and narrowly missed a patch of formerly submerged brick. I paused, intrigued. “Was that under most of the roads in San Francisco?” Throughout the city, old bits of arcane masonry became a foundation for whatever it is we now see. They are, literally, building blocks. Is that why I feel like everything in my life is so unstable? Have I ignored the basic rules of construction and built myself up on shaky ground? Whatever relationships I have with men are stilted and uncomfortable. I constantly feel misunderstood and alone. How do I do what my father commanded and “get over it?” It seems like that’s what I’ve been trying to do for as long as I can remember. Running away doesn’t seem to help. Despite all efforts at redefinition I stubbornly remain myself. My roommates and I were drinking wine and watching premium cables best. Tipsy and giddy we teased one about her obsession with an anteater named Pua. “You basically are an anteater,” we agreed. “Well you’re a fox,” she said to my other roomy. “What about me?” I asked. “You’re a chameleon,” she replied. I’d been hoping for a wolf, the one animal I have any rapport with. Not some lizard that changes its physical characteristics as a defensive measure to adapt to any situation. It hurts but she’s not incorrect. There is a level of discomfort in my own skin that relentlessly clings. Searching is fruitless because what I don’t like is inside. I am too sensitive and it has colored everything regardless of my efforts to be the person I know I am and not what he said I was. My life has been spent pushing every desire I’ve ever had deep down within until I couldn’t find it anymore. I convinced myself they didn’t matter. Except for one: I want everyone to love me. I will do anything, be anyone, to acquire that love. Now I am miserable, jobless and single. I fall in love with men who can’t, or won’t, fall in love with me. Meeting men, I am sarcastic and pithy, assuming they won’t like me. If they do I like them less for it. The captain broke my heart in Croatia but I shouldn’t have given it to him in the first place. So now what? I guess it’s time to actually get over it. I will fake it until I make it. I will do what is actually good for me not what I think other people want to do. The strongest buildings are the ones where the foundation is designed to take a shock and not crumble. I will bend just enough not to break. I will find my real desires again. I will be unapologetic to the world because that is the only person I was meant to be. I will find that wolf and make her strong. It’s the least I can do.

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