Wednesday, July 30, 2003
( 9:17 AM ) Rebecca
So that train is barreling down the tracks, and between me and Indie Rock Dad (IRD), we have so much freakin' baggage, only the Good Lord knows whether we'll be able to struggle onboard.
He’s had very few relationships, I’ve had way too many. I’m afraid of giving up boys, he’s afraid of giving up independence.
He worries that he doesn’t think I’m “perfect,” I worry that he’s moody and anxious. I adore his child; he worries she'll get too attached to me.
I’m actively seeking marriage; he just escaped an oppressive marriage. He thinks I’m an “enigma;” I think he’s a seething mass of contradictions.
I worry that we both worry too much, and that because we worry so much, we are Doomed as couple.
I feel myself trying to lift those heavy bags. Because when I look in his forest green eyes, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. That I don’t want to feel, maybe, and yet I do.
Because when he smiles at me, I would sign my life away in an instant. And because when I climb mountains with him, winding ever higher into sun and snow and lake-studded cirques, I feel like I’ve found someone who shares my same beating heart.
But hey. Trains move fast and baggage-laden people move slow, and the view certainly ain’t too bad here in Boysville. If we miss it, well, we’ll go our separate ways and each catch another one soon. Maybe.
I just wonder where this one is going, you know? 'Cause my restless self never much liked staying in one place for too long.
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