The Truth: Monday, April 7th

my town, a rainy night

and shit

my local stationary store

where some achieve solace

where I am supposed to feel solace

tire swing

electric candles

coming

going

home

Here's the truth:  I might write like it's all parties, trivia, and dancing, but if you're smart, you know "don't nobody live like that."  I don't.  I haven't been lying to you all this time, but you're no dummies; you know this is a blog and all blogs are selective in what is revealed about the blogger.  You think Imma post a bunch of unflattering pictures of myself?  Well, maybe for comic effect every once in a while.  But certainly not all the time.  The Collected Life can be a vain life; this is the internet, after all.

The truth is I get sad.  I get rejected and I don't get what I want all the time, despite my charming ways and my untraditional good looks.  The truth is, I get down and depressed, and it's not pretty and isn't much fun to write about.  And now that I'm an adult I've gotta learn to channel my sadness and anger and all the bad shit that happens into something I can live with so I can keep on living cause I've got a family and a life and shit to do after the sadness sinks in and the rejection touches the deepest of my nerves.

There's a goddamned next day every day and there's work to do and bills to get paid and papers to write and the house to clean and the kittens to pet.  Oh, and the husband.  There's a husband I've gotta love regardless of the darkness in my heart.  I don't have to pretend I'm something I'm not; I have to be honest.  But at the end of the day I can't be selfish and live like it's just me, because it's not.  So I find something else to do, somewhere else to go.

And tonight it's just out on the town, my town, a near-midnight walk in the soft, cool drizzle/rain.  It's out into the quiet dark of my town, a small town, where most everyone's lights are out and folks on the roads are heading home to their beds and turning in.  Periodically I turn around to ensure I'm alone and each time I do, rest assured, I am alone.  It is about 40 degrees this cool evening.  I am in a hat, a cashmere sweater and a reflective vest.  I head into town, walking near the edge of Main St.  Some folks are at the local bar; I want to take their pictures, but it feels invasive.  The folks at the local Friendly's are cleaning up before heading home.

In the neighborhood on the way home the suburban streets are eerie.  The loneliest tire swing in the world is wet and just outlined by the streetlight.  I appreciate greatly the homes who leave lights on in their living rooms, or by the door.  Who are they lit for?  They are lit for me tonight.

In the home stretch my feet hurt and my limbs ache.  I am sad, but I know this, too, shall pass.  I am lonely and unloved and so wretchedly, goddamned alone.  But I am also beloved, so loved, and heading to my own home.  My own roof, my own bed, my own loved one who shares my bed.  I am sad and I am happy.  I know my problems are a pleasure; my sadness not unique.  I am nothing tonight; I am no one.  I am a star in the sky among other beautiful dead stars shining outlived light.  I am sad.

But this is just now; this is just tonight.  There is tomorrow.

Goodnight.