Right before I meet up with someone I have never met, I become acutely aware of subtleties. I notice the large pores spread atop the dry area where my hand meets my wrist. I study the contrasted canyons between my blue veins and I think about oxygen. In moments such as these, there never seems to be enough oxygen.
I often doubt the capacity of my lungs.
I need to stop smoking cigarettes.
In 2008, I went to see Dr. Kook. I do not remember her real name. I just know she charged me $70 a session to touch my back and shift my muscles around. I always left feeling like Gumby.
Appointments with Dr. Kook were the bane of my existence. For some reason, I never told my mother this. I think it is because of the treasure chest at the end. Holographic robot stickers can turn even the most opinionated 18 year old into a mute.
Dr. Kook said my chest was tight.
She asked me what I was anticipating.
Since I was 14 years old, I have done this "thing" where I hold my breath when life gets really good or when life gets really shitty. When I am anxious, before good news, before bad news, before The Weeks go on stage, when I hear the shrill silence of abandonment...I hold my breath.
I will go on pretending this is my internal pause button until I have brain damage.
Life is what I anticipate-
The ambush.
The only reason you are reading this is because it is free.
Did you know that?
If I went to the trouble of writing a book, you would become incredibly supportive, enthusiastic, and proud. But, you would never buy it. You would say things like, "When I get the money, I'll..." or "I have been meaning to order your book!"
Your plans to purchase my book would be like
The elusive lunch plans I make with strangers...
"We should hang out
[But not really]!"
That was reverse psychology.
I am just digging for compliments.
When I went home to the funeral, my flower painting sat beneath my grandfather's bed gathering dust. As I am preparing for my first Nashville showing I cannot help but picture each stroke of wet paint matted to the canvas by dust elephants. I am four days short of something mediocre. I learned a long time ago my accomplishments do not really matter to anyone. It is difficult for me to get excited about anything. It is even more difficult for me to admit I have done well.
My biggest fear is not that people will say terrible things about my small contribution to the world. I can handle degradation.
I am just so tired of the silence.
My life is one, long, silent film.
At least it is funny sometimes.
So...when I meet someone new,
I do not expect they will think I am great.
Most of the time, the garbage I say just to convince them to be my friend is made up.
Or, it was true about myself five years ago.
I am a washed up actress.
"I have a passionate love for people..."
I say.
Or, at least,
That is what I am anticipating.
