As I sit in the parking lot between Petco and Bestbuy, with the window cracked about two inches, eating my Chick-Fil-A dinner I don’t feel out of place. That is, until my radio shuts off because I have been sitting with the car off for a while now and it has run through the allotted time, and in this moment I begin to feel the Texas air closing in on the fabric that covers my body. I’m in sweats and a long sleeve tee in September, my once damp hair has frizzed up from the air, and I realize that though I have half off my chicken left I’m not hungry for it. In this moment, in a town I didn’t grow up in nor did I choose, I am alone.
I’ve chosen this path. A path that will leave me feeling this way for many years to come on many occasions in many seasons. I should be studying, I should be sleeping, I should be with my sister, I should be with my parents, I should be with my friends, but I’m not. I’ve chosen to shut myself off from the world hoping for someone to knock on my door and say, “let’s go”. But that’s not how it works.
I turn my key slightly to start my radio again, as the silence begins to be too much.
I want to blame my trust issues on my past, or the way I was raised: I’m aware of these factors therefore I am now completely responsible for my own downfall. I tell people secrets and things that don’t really matter, if you think you know everything about me, you probably only know the parts I don’t care about. I really thought I had gotten over all of these problems but the last few days has really shown otherwise.
So here’s to sewing together loose ends and hiding the stitching as I try to merge my lives.