In the Nick of time...
I’ve been asking to be saved lately. From myself. Which I believe in and my uncanny ability to always come through. I can’t help it though. I find myself slipping.
And then you realize it’s a terrible beach/pool day and you’ve been up too damn early fighting with FIU, or the university which can accurately stand for “Fuck It Up,” and so you decide that you’ll never be a nice person again unless you get a latte. And hell, do some work while you are at it so the rest of Spring Break can be fun. It’s these last minute seemingly benign decisions that save you.
Nick. He’s saved me more than once.
I wasn’t drunk enough this weekend to party with the college babies in Coconut Grove and hadn’t enough contact with straight males to endure the ineligible throngs of y-chromosomes in South Beach. I didn’t have enough Zoloft to make up for the multiple times I’ve been told how much I am to be missed when I move to TexASS nor to deal with the incredible fear associated with leaving. And that’s not even including my hair issues (which I’m somewhat over but hell what I wouldn’t give for a few more inches). Nope, never enough.
Nick finished his program and passed his boards. I think it was some form of medicine, presumably nursing. He wondered how my program was going and wished me the best of luck in everything. And then he told me I was beautiful as well. He mentioned that he was sitting with a friend one day who was looking over at me and that they both thought I was incredibly beautiful: spiritually, personality, and physically. He just thought I should know that.
Sometimes I think that he’s an angel that arrives just when I need it. Sent to save me from myself. An angel in tweed blazers, glasses, and of course with a faint Spanish accent. But an angel nonetheless.
Here’s what I’m asking of myself for the next four months. To not let a day in Miami pass without living it fully. To keep finding whatever the hell it is I’m looking for. To never let it occur to me that I shouldn’t start something with anyone in anything because I’m leaving. If it’s meant to be, I will make it work. To not hold back. Anything. To never accept anything less than my best and to accept everyone else, even if it isn’t their best but so long as it’s inherently good. To visit my family in Naples, to see the Keys, to watch a sunset on the beach, to experience South Beach. Topless. And to not let it end there. To not let it end.
“You were always good at putting words together/And wearing them so loud.”
And then you realize it’s a terrible beach/pool day and you’ve been up too damn early fighting with FIU, or the university which can accurately stand for “Fuck It Up,” and so you decide that you’ll never be a nice person again unless you get a latte. And hell, do some work while you are at it so the rest of Spring Break can be fun. It’s these last minute seemingly benign decisions that save you.
Nick. He’s saved me more than once.
I wasn’t drunk enough this weekend to party with the college babies in Coconut Grove and hadn’t enough contact with straight males to endure the ineligible throngs of y-chromosomes in South Beach. I didn’t have enough Zoloft to make up for the multiple times I’ve been told how much I am to be missed when I move to TexASS nor to deal with the incredible fear associated with leaving. And that’s not even including my hair issues (which I’m somewhat over but hell what I wouldn’t give for a few more inches). Nope, never enough.
Nick finished his program and passed his boards. I think it was some form of medicine, presumably nursing. He wondered how my program was going and wished me the best of luck in everything. And then he told me I was beautiful as well. He mentioned that he was sitting with a friend one day who was looking over at me and that they both thought I was incredibly beautiful: spiritually, personality, and physically. He just thought I should know that.
Sometimes I think that he’s an angel that arrives just when I need it. Sent to save me from myself. An angel in tweed blazers, glasses, and of course with a faint Spanish accent. But an angel nonetheless.
Here’s what I’m asking of myself for the next four months. To not let a day in Miami pass without living it fully. To keep finding whatever the hell it is I’m looking for. To never let it occur to me that I shouldn’t start something with anyone in anything because I’m leaving. If it’s meant to be, I will make it work. To not hold back. Anything. To never accept anything less than my best and to accept everyone else, even if it isn’t their best but so long as it’s inherently good. To visit my family in Naples, to see the Keys, to watch a sunset on the beach, to experience South Beach. Topless. And to not let it end there. To not let it end.
“You were always good at putting words together/And wearing them so loud.”
posted by Cat at 4:38 PM
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