wendybirdstory

so much of it hurts. it's less of a searing pain and more of a throbbing ache, like someone punched you with bony knuckles deep under your skin in a place where no mother's kisses or bandaids can help with the healing. don't worry, im not in some sort of state, it's just a dull ache that comes when truth or beauty hits you so hard that you lose your breath and are left standing gaping.
i've become fond of the wind. in new york there are these huge gusts of wind that sweep in between buildings and force people to bump into one another and drag their coats against a passing stranger's legs. that and they make the trees tremble. i'm avoiding.
this is what i'm writing about. and i don't care if you like my style or not. i went to see chekhov's 'the seagull' on broadway and time an d again konstantin says 'it's not about these new forms or old forms or the creation of forms. i'm beginning to think more and more that when you write it needs to come from the heart' horrible botched paraphrase, but you see. here is the drivel that has been living in my gut. i am desperately afraid of love.
there.
i am afraid to be loved and to give it, or at least give it in a way where i am left standing with nothing, where i am so vulnerable that i don't keep a string attached to every word i say, every gift of love that i give so that i can quickly pull the string and retract everything in the blink of an eye. and then i think, you're 21 why haven't you been in love? what is wrong with you? are you heartless? no, that's melodramatic, i know. maybe i am too idealistic.
kym and i tell each other stories of our future husbands to each other from time to time. when i was home for thanksgiving she laid her head on my stomach and i just got lost in the fantasy of something that could possibly never come to be. well, most likely whatever i tell her won't, whatever beautiful story she tells me won't happen, because it's not realistic.
how i loathe that word. it's a cop-out for people who are trying to justify settling into the life that they're leading.
but love. can i do it? i don't know. and then i beat myself up because the opportunity hasn't really presented itself. what? am i supposed to go and talk to guys at bars? hell no. im not doing that. and i'm not buying high heels for anyone either. maybe it's that i just have this fear of being single the rest of my life so i'm rushing to become a woman and find the love of my life and force myself to have a crush on any male being that makes the cut, which is rare even at that. ugh.man oh man.
it hurts to watch people hold each other on the subways. it does, i'm not going to lie. the deep gut ache that is there i don't know why, and part of me doesn't want it to go away right now. because it's there for a reason, i guess. and i know if it's gone then i've given something up. and at the same time i want to learn how to love, because part of me doesn't believe i know how.
this is rambling. this is journaling. if you made it through i commend you.
by the way, i'm not unhappy, i have a lot of joy. i just need to slow down and realize that i am enough.