Truth: I Want People Who Show Up
I've been thinking a lot lately about what I really want, which feels like a d'doy thing to say -- to be crushed by the weight of one's cravings is entirely human. But that's just it. Sometimes you ride: you shotgun it to who even knows and lackadaisically note anything that pings your central nervous system as you're soused in stimuli. And sometimes you drive: you've been paying attention and you have some sparkle of a destination in mind.
For the past several years, I've been passenger-side: partially because I totaled my Firebird at sixteen and use my passport to get into bars; mostly because the only way to learn anything about yourself is to follow what glimmers for you until it blows up in your face. Then, post-explosion, a space clears and you have room to ruminate on where you're headed.
I recently tried to explain to someone why I haven't been in a serious relationship for several years, and tbh I did a pretty shitty, disingenuous job of it. The truth is I've been learning. I've been pursuing people who may or may not have been worthy of pursuit, or more accurately, weren't in a place to be fully present with me, likely because I wasn't ready to be fully present with them. I've been doing my own thing. I've been attempting to determine what my own thing is. I've been healing, regenerating lost limbs like a goddamn sea cucumber, recovering from my childhood and my narcissism and the terrible burden of being a woman with a body in the 21st century. I've been pinpointing what I love. I've been forming opinions. I've been blossoming like a dahlia or a disease. I've been getting there. And I've determined that I expect the people in my life to get there, too.
I want people who show up. That is all.