Filled With the Wrong Answers

There are questions that you ask that you don't want the answer to.

At work: Am I doing this wrong? 

In life: Am I making the right choices? 

With humans: His name isn't 'Ted' is it?

In your own version of "Fatal Attraction": Is this your girlfriend?

So why ask? (See what I just did there... I asked a question I wouldn't like the answer to). Because of the pain. Pain is so intoxicating. It's so reaffirming in all the wrong ways. It's kind of like a drug that doesn't make you immediately happy and doesn't make you immediately worse off. It just sort of lingers until it adds up. And then it all adds up at the most inconvenient time... like when you're driving and the freeway you've been taking for the last year suddenly becomes unfamiliar. You can't remember if "Disney Way" is an exit you've seen before, let alone the one you need to get off at. Suddenly, the only important things are the answers to those questions. They've been shelved away in a special filing folder labeled "Well Fuck Me!"...

YES you did do that wrong!

NO those are the WRONG choices to make!

THAT'S 'Steve' you dumb ass!

OF COURSE she's my girlfriend!

And boom. Seventeen miles later on godknowswhat interstate, you're feeling it... really feeling it. 

But then you take matters into your own hands. You de-friend a few fauxs on facebook (see the pun), clean up your cyberworld, make your bed, buy new shoes at a discounted price and remember that all drugs wear off. But a self pittying tear never hurt anyone.

And that's all.

Random Thought...

One time when I was eight, I went with my family to visit my cousins at their new house. I was playing cards with my cousin in the family room when all of a sudden it occurred to me that the house had become significantly quieter. I said to my cousin, "Molly, where are my little brothers? I don't hear them anymore." We went to search for my family when we ran into her mom who said, "Meg, you're still here?!" It immediately became clear that my entire family had left to go home... but left without me. 

They came back for me promptly, all under the guise of "We thought you wanted to stay longer..." but I knew exactly what had happened. I knew my parents had erred on the negligent side of things for that one day.

I'm not an only child, but I'm the only girl. I'm was raised under the impression that I wasn't an easily forgotten portion of our seven-person family. But it only takes the one time. Just one small reality check to know exactly where your place is in life...

From that day forward, I have religiously left my shoes next to my mom's whenever we've gone to a family member's house for a visit.