Goodbyes, farewells, run baby run, abandoning and sometimes leaving behind a beautiful wreckage, ships after a storm, my disorganized storm. I’ve abandoned ideas, pursuits, people, and things – so many things but mostly ideas. Ideas about what it looks like to be, anything. My reality is still me playing alone in my room as a child, dolls acting like humans in a house filled with things, playing outside in the garden or in the pool, surrounded by trees and roses, desperately wanting to be happy but with no clear idea of what that looks like.
Perhaps I’m a goodbye girl because people have always said goodbye to me or because I’ve said goodbye to that girl who used to dream so big, that girl who felt she could be anything. All I wanted to be as a child was a famous writer, I certainly now have the ammo to write about experiences; the boys whom I’ve loved and lost, family woes, and my ever-changing living and lifestyle fiascos.
Disorganized in so many ways, like when I would play with those dolls, I remember always being alone and not having any direction. I no longer believe I can do all the things on my own, for all our turmoil my love taught me I could lean but he also taught me that some trees cannot hold a lean like mine, I need a confident tree, not a giving tree though, I don’t want to just take, can’t we just lay still and lean into the wind together? Is that what romance looks like?
Trees not tied to the ground but steady and strong, I thought Sam would make a lovely tree but he was too tall and towered over me like an overzealous Sequoia. Why is this all about trees? I have no clue but like my m.o., which is the most consistent thing about this goodbye girl, I remain true, somehow despite not knowing the who, what, where, and whens like everyone else seems to, I can still play, be thankful, and hopeful my tree is out there waiting for me as I have been waiting for him.
-B
