Take a breath. Take a breath before the next frenzied announcement that you’ve written lots today, stuff you feel decent about, stuff that was, you daresay, inspired. Take a breath before you dash, because you, my dearest girl, are in a hell of a lot of hurry when you don’t have that far to go.
This is not so difficult, nor time consuming, that you cannot take a few peaceful moments and reflect. Look back on this one single day, this infinitesimally small slice of all reality. Don’t make this carry the universe inside itself because, of course, it already does, and your prodding will not improve matters.
Think about that small victory with IT, helping to fix that guy’s computer rather than wait for a hundred thousand years for a tech. Think about how that next step in the hotel process has moved forward. Even if it’s wrong, the needle moved.
No need to barrel ahead and say nothing just for the sake of the number. No one is in charge of this, but you. This isn’t saying that it isn’t important to keep your word – because it is – but you also must understand the spirit of this place. There is no value in communication a long-form single stream of consciousness that is in response to nothing. Twitter’s already questionable as hell.
You can think about how marvelous it is that tomorrow is your birthday and you are not actually on fire. You’re not dating anyone, but you’re not on fire, either. You’re not drowning in a vat of formaldehyde, so you’re one up on Miss Laura Bow, too. It’s not entirely shabby. You have a bottle of water and a writing assignment that makes you that giddy nervous that you’re going to mess it up but it’s so delicious that you’re even curious to see just exactly how that fuck-up will come to be.
It will be a reckoning, no matter what you do. The spirits of Birthdays Past, Present and Future will crowd around with a pack of cigarettes and some half-empty 40s between them, shaking their heads. It will be quieter than I want, way more innocuous than I might desire, but it will pass without me setting the village alight. I won’t take anyone out with my annual birthday bloodbath. It’s just me, sawing on the moon, with my sharp as diamonds little womb. He will be disappointing. I think it’s just the relationship now. I’ve swallowed the truth and now everything tastes a bit of it.
He told me to get some rest tonight. He told me to run off and sleep. I said I would and thank you. As if that time was both agreed upon as allotted and it was his to give back so graciously. I have to change that. I have to not live and die by his whims, his timetables…not when the boundaries no longer exist.
Five minutes to spare and oh how you worried. No, we can do this…if we try.