American Airlines lost my baggage yesterday. After 40 minutes of waiting I gave up, got in Pep's car and promptly cried harder than I have in years. It wasn't about the bag at all, but it certainly destroyed my last remaining ounce of composure. I couldn't even say hello when I sat down in the car because I knew if I focused on anything other than the street I'd lose it. Eventually I just gave in. He drove for about one mile before pulling over into a parking lot so he could get out of the car and hug me while I stained his shirt with the mascara from my sad little piggy eyes.
My trips home to see my family have become a bit of a guessing game over the past couple years. This time I guessed wrong. I suppose I can't say much more than that.
I used to work with a girl that I think I see constantly. I see people on the street and in restaurants and for some stupid reason my brain thinks, "Hey it's ___!" And in the next second I discover that I was incorrect. But it continues. I have no idea why. I didn't have any opinions on the girl and we didn't talk much, I just think everyone looks like her from far away. I can't figure out why my eyes think they see her.
While I was home I caught myself staring at my skin in the mirror, hating the size of my pores. Over the past few years I've learned to stop hating myself for things that I cannot change. I no longer analyze myself to the point of hatred. Nor will I do it with others. Sometimes I slip, but I always catch myself and order myself to stop. My own happiness and self-preservation have become the most important things I have, and I just couldn't get to that point unless I dropped all my hurtful, unnecessary, dumbass opinions about things that don't matter.
For the first time in my life, I arrived home after a week away and didn't care to be in my own bed. I showered and hugged the kitties and then went to Pep's to spend the rest of the day removing the poison from my brain and my heart. We were asleep before midnight and neither of us cared. It was my second New Year's Eve with him and the second New Year's Eve on which he has watched me hurt (last year it was just a wisdom tooth, lol). Today I lay in bed with him, looking at apartments and talking about the future.
Not much of a Happy New Year post, sorry! I just don't have any fucks to give. I don't care to see 2014 go and I don't care about welcoming 2015. I just care about love. I care about loving my friends and my family and my boyfriend and my cats. I care about protecting love and growing with it. That's it. That is the only thing I have room for.