yours, tiramisu

i wasn't born to lose you

My neighbors have put up some ghosts in the front yard for Halloween. They're objectively quite well done, white sheets over a wire frame, but they remind me of stories my mom told me of the Ku Klux Klan marching through these very streets when she first moved here twenty years ago. I'm sure the fourth-grade teacher who put them up is a lovely lady (I know her personally), but the sight of those white sheets billowing in the wind always conjures up images of KKK rallies and burning torches. Fortunately, our neighborhood has grown far more diverse since then, but it's only been two years since a stranger walking the streets calmly advised me to "go back where I came from" (maybe he meant well...?) and one since a neighbor put up a Trump 2024 flag. Progress is slow, I guess.

I booked an appointment with the new doctor I'm hoping to switch to. I have to be there in person and (unfortunately) the only available appointment was on my birthday, so it looks like I'll be traveling to some obscure Midwestern town alone to celebrate in a hospital. I think it's the second birthday in the past three years I'll spend in a hospital, which is ... a slightly depressing statistic? At the very least, it does not bode well for my longevity.

It's getting cold now, which means the end of the year is fast approaching. I dread looking back on this year, which, while not completely devoid of good moments, has been without a doubt the worst year of my life thus far. The realities of adult life have hit me like a truck. My boss treats me like shit; I suck at my job and want to leave (& do something else with my life); I still experience levels of emotional pain that make it difficult to function; I live at home with my parents and don't know when I'll get to leave and live an independent adult life; I feel more isolated from my friends than ever; and, the status of my illness is at the worst point it's ever been. Individually they'd be difficult enough to deal with, but juggling them all at once has given me much more than I can handle.

I woke up this morning to a save the date email in my inbox: one of my best friends I've known since middle school is getting married next spring. Since they've been engaged for a while, the invite is more or less what I expect it to be (except the plus-one they initially gave me to bring my now ex-girlfriend has been revoked, for obvious reasons). This will be my first wedding ever, and the thought of it being for someone I was inseparable with in college floors me. I'm happy for her—her life is going pretty much exactly as she drew it up, with a stable job, nice fiancée, and forthcoming domestic life—but contrasting that with where I am in life (and getting concrete evidence of it in a wedding invite) makes me feel even more lost than I already do. I know there's no point in comparing, but how did we even get here? How have the years brought us so far apart?

The title of this post is from a Bob Dylan song, which is quickly becoming one of my favorites. It's a poetic song of romance, but of course to me now it tastes more bitter than sweet. I wasn't born to lose you, but now I have, and what now?

The guilty undertaker sighs
The lonesome organ grinder cries
The silver saxophones say I should refuse you
The cracked bells and washed-out horns
Blow into my face with scorn
But it’s not that way
I wasn’t born to lose you

#english #journal #life #wordvomit