My bicycle was stolen today. Or, I suppose, most of my bicycle. The thief was nice enough to leave the front wheel, so my reaction was kind of like, “Hey, that’s my tire… but… where’s the… rest of… it?”
Cue realization and tears.
“Having an entire bike was a big responsibility anyway,” I typed to my boyfriend while slumped on the concrete. “Now I’m only responsible for a tire. I could make a unicycle. A rubber hula hoop. The options are truly endless.”
Fast forward a couple hours: the theft has triggered a meltdown and I’m crying (yet again) at my desk. I go to the washroom to wipe away my tears; I look in the mirror and take a picture of myself.
I go back to my desk I send the photo to my best friend. “I’m trying to be happy, yet I’m wearing a floral smock. A fucking floral smock. No one could be happy in this.”
And I laugh. Then I (spoiler alert) cry, because, who am I? A floral smock? – And I bought it. I bought this article of clothing that is the farthest thing from me. And I’m crying (suprise!) in a work washroom. I mean, I told my new boss I have terrible allergies to explain the constant sniffles and why my eyes are always red.
To say it has been a long, hard summer would be an understatement.
I was continuously let down by folks I thought were new friends, but turned out to be nothing more than shitty ex-co-workers.
I cried more tears in two months than I have in the last ten years. I cried when I went to make a smoothie, then remembered I didn’t get to keep the blender. I cried in cars and parking lots and cul-de-sacs and on public transit. I cried while riding my bike and in my bed and in my boyfriend’s bed, too.
Within the next month, I have to move (again) and I don’t know where I want to live. Close to my boyfriend? My best friend? Work? The ice rink? Siberia?
I also have to buy a car and I have no idea how to do this. “Look under the hood,” they say. Oh, will there be an engine there? Okay, because in that case, everything looks fabulous.
I’m over what was. I don’t want to go back to what my life was.
But I also don’t know what I do want.
I don’t know who I’m supposed to be now. Or who I want to be now.
And today, that indecision has left me as a floral’d, unicycling wreck.
Tomorrow can only be better.