fat jokes

When I laugh, my eyes water. Sometimes I laugh so hard at the little things that I walk away crying. Even at 18, I was still melodramatic. I just thought I had grown up. I hope Phinn never reads any of this. The same way I hope he never meets his Uncle Reuben (or inherits any of his genes). I let some people down, burned down bridges at each crossroads, made excuses, made pathetic apologies where I owned up to the way I had behaved, and became ashamed, instead of proud and happy.

I'd rather live in a cloud of misconception; meaning, I would rather not know what anyone thought of me. The more I've gotten used to introversion (and Southern Living), the stronger my sense of self has become. I don't feel like I'm experimenting anymore. I'm going to be Phinn's mom. We're going to read with eachother, make silly faces, and discover things in our own backyard. We're going to grow heirloom tomatoes, and pet the dogs at the humane society.

I held on to Lowell for way too long. I took off at what seemed to be the end of my life: a melodramatic 19 year-old. I smile when I think of people, and experiences we had, but I'm done trying to maintain relationships, defend my decisions, or justify them to myself. Maybe I'll go back someday.