Out damnit. Tonight I went out. God, that’s all I needed. Just to get out. I know nothing’s wrong with that, in fact, I used to do it all the time. I loved going out alone. I felt awesome, sexy, strong when I went out alone. I felt like I could just be on my own, in my thoughts. Alone in my own energy; not catering to anyone, not entertaining anyone -except for everyone that was around me. I loved seeing people, seeing strangers. There was something very romantic to me about being around people who didn’t know me. I felt like I could be anything I wanted to them. To a stranger, you’re only who you feel like you are in front of them. You are only who they can see. You are not the person you feel like they know you as, or the stupid things they know you’ve done. It made me feel like the person I wanted to be. Strong, alone, cool, maybe even interesting. And now, here I sit, alone, awkward as fuck. The older I get, the more I realize that, though I love seeing and being seen, being out, I don’t know how much I actually like engaging. It seems to be harder and harder as the years pass. It’s a phase, I feel like. It’s been a tough year. But then I wonder, does this just happen? Do we just go through phases of our person? It makes sense of course, but then why is it so hard to adjust to our own changes? Allowing for change seems like the hardest lesson I have yet to learn. It has been the one to follow me through everything, still nipping at my knees, cutting my spirit with each new turn. It seems I’m constantly trying to live backwards. I’m always trying to pick up pieces of things that went wrong months and years ago. Why do we feel like we must clear up thing in the past to move faster and easier into the future. I can never let it go somehow. It seems I’m always trying to figure out who I am by trying to figure out who I’ve always wanted to be, or who I used to want to be. I don’t know what the truth is. It’s been the hardest thing to admit out of all of it. And then again, no; it’s been the thing I felt I knew the whole time, and the longer I try to look for it, the farther it seems to feel. The closer I got to “who I was”, “who I am”, the less I seemed to know. Now I don’t seem to know at all.
When I was young, at least I knew who I wanted to be, now even that escapes me. It seemed then, it was inside of me, waiting to come out, and now, she seems to have leaked out, little by little, and I can’t find her again. I can’t collect enough of the pieces of her to see anything clearly. We can be anybody, can’t we? Are any of us really born the person we want to be? I knew who I wanted to be once, and then so many things crept into my head, it pushed her right out. I feel like she’s always right above me, in a cloud leaking out of the top of my head, in my thoughts, but never in my body anymore. My body is so light these days, I’ve even lost weight. How great right, the girl outside of me would have been thrilled, but the girl inside of me now hardly cared. The girl inside of me was scared, that even my own body was leaving me. The thighs I used to wish were thinner, the thighs that I had looked at for years and had devoted hours of elliptical gym workouts trying to get rid of, my most stubborn parts, the legs I stood on, leaking out. The stomach I sucked in, the little pouch right below my belly-button, between my hips, disappearing into thin air. Instead of feeling cuter, I felt like even my body, my true home was leaving against my will. My face, less round, as I’d always wanted, now freaked the hell out of me, I looked weird. I looked different. Wasn’t that what I’d always wanted though? I’d been so tired of myself. The same face, same makeup, the same painted red lips I always come back to, and always, always, the same eyes. Mascara I’d done the same for years, the cat eyes I’d fallen in love with as a teenager, looking at the pachucos and vintage hispanic women with curled up hair and strong necks that always seemed to stand up straight and always remembered how to be a lady. And even know, as I start to feel at home again, in my head, in my body, Los Zafiros play through my headphones. “Perdoname, mi amore”, she sings, and I remember who am. She is in me now, and I remember how it feels. When the girl inside of me lets the girl outside of back in, I am strong, I am calm hearted, I am sexy, and I am alone.