when you look back a year and cannot remember exactly what you were like, do you worry? or do you remind yourself that change is simply what we do? along with regret.
i am full of dimestore platitudes today. don’t test me.
i read something earlier, “i am happy to be in love with myself.” i think i’m not in love with myself, because that means i’d be doing drastic, protective things, like pitching myself off cliffs in order to save myself. er, hmm. talk about a klein bottle! i’m saying, though, that i’m pretty fond of myself, and i even admire myself at times.
i think i have a crush on me. circle one: yes no maybe
my mother used to buy me broken clocks at garage sales, and i’d pick at them and make them tick again. i remember seeing my first wristwatch with jewel movement, the tiny rubies beaming like grandmother’s eyes, hard and proud. this christmas, my father-in-law gave me an antique wristwatch with 17-jewel movement. he opened it, and i was still mystified, thrilled by those important specks, the dots of almost-red that do so much.
no one can still say “i am not important” when she realizes how much she can break.