Borrower

For the first time in my life, I bought a car. The two cars I've had in my life were leased for me. Because they were borrowed, I had no problem letting others drive my car for me. That and the crippling fear of driving. But today, I hit the thousand mile mark on my car. And I drove every one of those miles. That's the first time that's ever happened in a car that was "mine." I've done all the driving. I know that's not impressive at all to most people out there. But this is huge for me.

And yet, it all feels so similar. February and wondering why it is that the pieces still don't fit together just right. What is it that keeps friends from hearing the strain in my voice? All day today, I've really just needed to talk. So... I came to my blog.

What I really want to say: Last night, my ex-boyfriend texted me to say he was thinking of me. Why? It would have been better for us to have been friends right away than get random texts four months later. But maybe that's just me. And as for that guy I was seeing, well, I haven't heard from him in a few days. I suppose it's to be expected.

Actually, it's not. I'll admit it: I'm pretty fucking great, folks. So, maybe I can be a shitty friend because I'd rather stay in and watch a movie than go out and drink but there is no one in my life I let down more than myself. But that's always been me. I kind of just have to know: why do people keep giving up on me? I haven't given up on myself. Even when I make stupid decisions like eating nachos instead of a salad and reading instead of sleeping and being honest instead of not. And yet, I'm starting to believe that people want to be lied to. People don't want to hear the truth. I refuse to accommodate. I'd be letting myself down if I didn't remain the honest person that I am. And I can't do that anymore. I can't give up on myself if everyone else is going to.

I'm beginning to understand that all the time I spend in other people's lives is just borrowed. It's not really mine to keep. It's limited and eventually, I have to give it back. I mean, I worked in a library--not a bookstore. And even the promises of permanence seem to have expiration dates. But this car and those thousand miles--it feels really good to own them. To have known they were mine to keep. To know I won't have to give them back. And while a car is not permanent, I guess I wish I could feel that way about a few more things in my life.

-Theresa