Unfinished draft, date unknown. From sometime this past Spring.

I’m still thinking about relationships, the topic is in heavy rotation these days. Blood-family and I-choose-you-to-go-on-this-journey-with-me family, and the people who wind up being that second kind of family that you’d never expected, and the people who are supposed to be that first kind of always-and-forever family that wind up disappearing. And vice-versa.

The lessons in this have been difficult; sharp. Painful. I’m outgrowing this one set of clothes that everyone got used to me wearing, that I got used to me wearing. I catch myself in the mirror some mornings and see a new person that I completely and utterly recognize and identify with, other nights I pass by her reflection in a windowpane and don’t understand who she is at all. Still other times, I catch a glimpse of my mother staring back at me.

The thing with the second kind of family, the kind you pick and surround yourself with, is that they’re under no obligation to stay around, either. Inasmuch as I’m experiencing a wave of the reality of the people who have left me, I’m experiencing the ways that I’ve left them and others. The friends who stopped keeping in touch when I turned off social media, the “we should totally get together!” texts that never follow through, the parties I don’t attend because they feel like they’re full of strangers – it’s left me lost and broken and open-ended somehow. Do I habitually pick bad communicators? Do people just not give a fuck? Both? I don’t know. All I can manage to figure out is that it’s a huge knot to try and untangle. All I know is that I started trying to figure out a wedding guest list and realized that 90% of it was out of obligation.

I’ll keep digging, but it’s time for a smaller, more quiet life. Old leaving makes room for the new. I have to trust that it’s all part of the plan, so that I don’t lose my God damn mind.

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