Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Beauty & The Spazz

It's bad enough when you can't control the panic that sets in whenever you think about the future. Throw love into the mix. Not just any love. But the real, worry free kind. The comforting kind that settles your stomach and strokes your hair and whispers "hush" to every single insecurity you have inside. The kind of love that heals for Christ's sake. It's bad enough that love already makes you feel like a fool. But for a chronically anxious worry-wort to be in love with your standard "has-it-all-together" prince charming....what kind of twist of fate is that? While he sails calmly into the future my mind keeps running in circles.

Like a little midget who keeps turning the light on while you try to sleep.

It's hard not to feel undeserving. Insecurity like that can drive a girl to do drastic things. Like move to New York. Her own illegitimate form of rehab. Her own punishment for being so disheveled.

I wish I could be his kind of perfect, but the truth of the matter is I'm far from. I always feel a little bit like a failure. I always feel a little bit behind. Standing next to life's prodigy, a man who tackles it all with a smile on his face, someone who never feels defeated...well...let's just say I feel slightly askew.

I'm over-selling, I'm sure. D isn't all that perfect. I'm sure he always feels a step or two behind. We're all catching up to someone else. Eyes moving faster than feet can carry. But he makes it look so damn easy. I wonder sometimes if I'll ever look back on myself and think, "I remember when I was a mess."

Until then, I stay one stumbling step behind. One second away from cracking. Constantly second guessing myself, always feeling like I'm fucking something up or forgetting something at home. Always wondering what it could possibly be that makes him love me so much.

Aside from my good looks, of course.

Of course, don't get the wrong idea. I know he loves me as is. He'd just kiss my (sharp) cheek and say, "It's gonna be OK, Boogs." His voice smiling, eyes singing. Of course he would never think of me as I think of myself. I'm not some spazzed out nut case in his eyes. To him I'm Boogie, the one who needs kisses like grass needs water. Running with her heels to the sky. Like a little black dress with hem undone.


Anonymous said...

I'm glad what we share can bring a sense of calm to your life. I know you are trying hard and I appreciate your efforts and all that you do for us. And most important...I miss the sharp cheeks!

Love you Boogs.