Growing Up, Love

Cast Out

At the end of the first really, truly single week of my life since 2002 (that’s 11 years of men, my friends), lessons blow in gales. I can barely hear a thing. My eyes sting.
 
Somehow, I am still upright.
 
Honestly? It’s a little bit thrilling.
 

Anxiety is love’s greatest killer. It creates the failures. It makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you. You want to save him but you know he will strangle you with his panic.

– Anais Nin, February 1947

 

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After Midnight

Just think:
a cute little flat
in a college town, a job in a non-profit
animal welfare organization
and evenings free to rock
the open mic.
All of this, in a blink.
Poor girl.
Your godmother must have earned her wings
from an online university.
All that magic,
and the best she can do
is a dress,
a dance,
a man?
When you leave
his ring on the nightstand
and cross the moat
for the last time, be ready to take
matters into your own hands.
If she shows up again,
grab the wand
and run.