Get in the box

It’s a Tuesday which means it’s running day. It’s raining outside right now which is what lead me to pull out my laptop. I have a lot of thoughts in my head and I guess it’ll help –err I know it will help to put them on paper. To get them out of my head. First up, I was thinking about J earlier. I wrote about him last night. He’s the last person I had sex with. I thought about the story Elyse Myers told of her worst date and I thought about telling the story of when the NFL player made me pancakes. I thought about the day he asked for my number and I wanted to give him my number. Granted, it was before I realized I didn’t have to give my number to everyone who asked. But, I did want him to. I think. Or, I saw him and knew he was going to ask and just prepared myself to give it to him. I thought he was cute and so for whatever reason, when he asked, I gave him my number. Then I thought about going to get ice cream and going to the park and how these were both my ideas. I thought about telling him he needed to do what he loved because he was doing the world a disservice otherwise. I told him he wasn’t good at tennis but still lit up doing something sporty. I didn’t use that word – I definitely didn’t use the word “sporty.” Athletic. Anyway, I thought about him offering to make me a meal and I said breakfast. I said breakfast for his benefit – it's by far the easiest to come up with what to make for breakfast. I thought about how he showed up with no groceries and it was postponed until a later date after I informed him he could either show up before 5 or not at all. I thought about how he picked me up from the airport and how I didn’t owe him anything for doing that, but we had sex anyway. I thought about how he told me to turn around while we had sex and he slapped my butt and I thought ‘hmm, I wonder what that would be like now?’ Because my hair is short. Not wondering what it’d be like for me, but for the person on the other end of the penis. I thought ‘sexy,’ because I am sexy with whatever hair I have. I thought about Barbie not having any female dolls with short hair. I thought about Ken’s hair – is it fake hair or is it hard plastic and if they made a girl Barbie with short hair would it be plastic because that’s no fucking fun. I thought about what R said after I stopped talking to J about him not being a good football player because he couldn’t see a good catch or something. It was clever and obviously rehearsed. And I thought about why he said it when he did. I thought about having walked into the gym earlier and feeling the words that had been spoken about me. And I felt R didn’t say anything to defend me, so he said the thing about J. I thought about feeling and knowing all these things that weren’t said by so many people. I thought about all the truths I just know. I thought about my psychic gifts and still not vibing with the idea of calling myself a psychic because it feels like another box I would be putting myself into. I thought about the box I’ve been in most of my life. The don’t touch anything, don’t break anything, don’t speak unless spoken to, sit still, don’t inconvenience anyone, don’t confuse anyone, don’t shine brighter than anyone, don’t make a mess, keep yourself together, don’t be emotional, smile, don’t ask any questions, don’t make anyone feel dumb, don’t be smart, be quiet, be still, like what they like, smile, laugh at the joke, be yourself, but quiet, still and smiling box. Then I was thinking about Barbie. I feel kind of like crying right now, but it’s a tired cry. It’s the cry of me just wanting it to make sense. All of it. It’s the cry of just wanting to know what to do. It’s the cry of wanting the instructions, but when you’re no longer in a box there aren’t any instructions. The instructions come from inside... and I feel like it’s gotten quiet in there. Like this morning when I was outside with Chubbs, squatted, petting him, I stopped for a moment and it was so quiet. So quiet. It’s raining still – heavier it sounds like and that’s making me feel a type of way because it’s run day and it’s 1:17PM. While I was sitting on the toilet earlier I was thinking “am I thinking too much of myself?” And while a part of me says yes, a part of me says I'm just keeping myself alive. It’s wild to know I signed up for this lol. I first typed ‘to think,’ but I know. I know I said yes, yes, fucking yes to this adventure of a lifetime. I wonder if it’s advertised – nah. But it’s funny to think about. Souls doing their thing and seeing an ad for life on earth. “Remember who you are!” “Feel all the things!” “Experience love and pain and everything in between!” “Not satisfied with your trip? You can do it again –as many times as you wish.” “Do you like puzzles?” LOL. Is that what got me? Do I really enjoy puzzles that much? Thank y’all for the rain and the push for me to write. I feel better. Especially after the life on earth advertisements. You're fucking funny, Leah. Okay, I think it stopped raining. It's 1:23PM. Check that out. Okay, run time. Let’s. Fucking. Go.