i don’t have to tell the truth

by epi

but i will. because some part of me believes that telling it, will… make it okay? simple words.

i’m afraid. i ran out of church today. the second it was over, i found the exit and bee-lined. i didn’t want anyone to see me cry. ‘hm, cry?’ yes. cry. i didn’t even make it two blocks to my car before the tears started. why? because i know how to do all this. and yes, it seems ridiculous, but sometimes the truth is ridiculous. i went to church, looked lost, smiled at everyone, shook hands, looked confident but a little overwhelmed and did it. in my head i reviewed my list of ‘moving to a new place’ things. but somewhere in all of that, i realized… THIS is my life. not, once i meet people and find a boo and a beau and have a routine. not once i settle down for keeps. no. this… this, moving around, meeting people, changing, shifting, aching, loving, growing is my life. and i cried because i don’t want it to be. even though it is. and i thought about keeping silent, about not telling the truth, about pretending that this is all perfect and hunky-dory (because there’s no reason that it shouldn’t be), but… it’s not perfect. it’s not un-perfect either. just, i’m a little lost, and a lot overwhelmed and when i cried today i wanted so badly to say “i want to go home” but i am home but i’m not. because tulsa still feels like home, even though it isn’t. and i trust that stl will become what tulsa was or is or… and i’m basically stuck in purgatory. that’s it.
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it’ll get better. it always does (this isn’t the first time i’ve done this. every two years, minimum for the last 23. that’s at least 12 of these, and i can count more. so i would know. it’ll get better. promise.)

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