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.
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.)