This is as honest as I can be.
My birthday says I’m a Sagittarius. That’s a fire sign, and some have said that suits me perfectly. I don’t quite know what that means.
I am 5’3″, I weigh 128 lbs, I don’t know how to swim, and I’m a sucker for a man with a nice smile and clean sneakers.
I’m still learning how to act in public. I’m often loud in places I should be quiet, or tell the truth without concern of who’s within ear shot. I’ve been told I’m not very friendly, but am a really good friend. Go figure.
I like food. A lot. I eat my feelings – good or bad – and have to, have to, HAVE TO have dessert after dinner. I once read I should be with someone that makes me feel like when my food comes out at a restaurant. I’ve never looked at love the same since.
Most of the time I feel everything good in my life is deserved. Sometimes–secretly–I’m afraid I’m not good enough. Not for this family, not for this job, not for these friends or that man. Not for this life. I also get nervous when someone gets close enough to hear me breathe.
I don’t have much balance or coordination. Except when I dance. Somehow music works magic in my body and viola! I have rhythm and can stay upright.
My son is a mirror. Loving him is showing me everything I need to work on like patience, forgiveness, and spontaneity. Being his mother is also the most fulfilling role I have ever been in. Ever.
I have trouble looking people in the eyes when I am feeling vulnerable. I often look at the walls when I’m spilling my heart out. It’s less terrifying, like a night light in the dark. It’s more like I’m talking to myself than another actual human being.
Speaking of, I talk to myself a lot. I also have a staring problem which has sometimes caused problems. Sometimes.
I fall in love a thousand times a day: with the sound of my son laughing, the smell of my dad cooking, strangers holding hands on the street. With the music blasting from my phone, my brand new sweater, and quite possibly one more time…but good luck getting me to say that shit out loud.
I have an odd fascination with North Korea, plants that eat animals, slinkys, and generally things that don’t make much sense. Probably why I’ve historically stayed too long in situations that just don’t make any sense. Those last two sentences are proof that I only make sense of things when I say them out loud or write them down.
For the first time in my life I’m in a situation that feels…safe. And it’s making me realize that I’m actually not afraid of heights or snakes or big bodies of water, but I am terrified of actually having what I’ve dreamed of and of being loved by a heart that matches mine because yo, I AM FUCKING INTENSE.
I just learned that about myself, too. And you can’t tell right now, but my heart is breakdancing in my chest because I have been way too open for my own good but I will still share it because that’s what this blog is about. My ears ring whenever shit like this happens… when the truth has the aggressive audacity to be…I don’t know…..