I Don’t Drive Anymore

We bought a car and you said let’s drive too far, and drive too fast. I said I’d drive because you’ve never driven before.
I picked the most scenic route I know. I wanted to make sure you enjoyed the view. It’s just us in the car, we rode care free.
Eventually we met up with my friends. I was so glad you met them – in as much as I enjoy your company alone, hearing someone else’s laughter can be fun too. I asked if you want to meet with your friends too, but you declined. You said we can wait, and wait we did. You haven’t told many that you bought a car with me.
We eventually met up with your friends, and it was still a fun ride. I’m still driving and I thought you didn’t mind.
Until you told me you did. And I forgot that you’re in the car too, and that this was your car too.
So I handed the wheel. I sat on the passenger seat. The view was still great, but the drive is a tad slower. I don’t mind. Whatever makes you happy.

Getting Old and Growing Up

Just saw a recent episode of New Girl. Early on the episode, Nick was talking to a homeless guy (not the first time he did this) looking for advice about making decisions as a grown up. He just lost his father and felt that everything can be taken away from you unexpectedly, and that he worries about his relationship with roommate Jess.

I thought, “Grow up, Nick.”

— — —

I’m still conflicted about my boyfriend’s dad passing away. Passing away – I hate that term. Sounds like he just happen to be in the area, walking from point A to Point B, and he just passed by me. But in this case, he did. I saw tears, grief, mourning during the wake – and I honestly felt sad. I don’t know if it’s because I felt bad for everyone there, the same way I felt sad when I saw A Walk to Remember, the same way I cry over sad movies. I don’t know if it’s because I felt bad for my boyfriend and his siblings, and being sad is the only closest I could feel to losing a parent since I’ve never lost one and I can’t find anything to compare it with. Maybe I just felt sad because I don’t know my boyfriend’s dad, and now I never will.

I don’t know what my boyfriend is going through. I feel helpless because there’s nothing I can offer to help. I do not have the tools for this. But in a very selfish way, he does not know what I’m going through either. He’s mourning because he lost something he had. I’m mourning for something I’ll never know.

— — —

I had cousins come over from Toronto and had a good time taking them around the city. Granted that it’s the most tourist-y areas in the city, I know by the abundance of pictures they took that they enjoyed the lights of Times Square and the view in Battery Park. Also introduced them to halal street meat, also known as heaven in a styro plate. Pictures were uploaded on Facebook, and I gleefully viewed every single one of them.

My favorite one was of my mom when she was visiting them the week before. She was surrounded by her “grandkids” – my cousins’ children, none of them older than ten. She looked very happy.

— — —

My body is killing me. I must have slept in an awkward angle because the muscles over my right shoulder blade are together in deciding I should be in physical pain for the length of whatever time frame they agree on. I had a massage to loosen them up, and I did get some relief that lasted the duration of the massage. It’s been a few days and the pain is slowly going away, but it is still uncomfortable to sit up straight.

Nothing is sexier than the red bear prints tattooed on my back next to Salonpas heating patches and smelling like a hospice.

— — —

I’m worried I’m getting old too fast. I’m worried my dad will be taken away from me unexpectedly. I’m worried my mom would be too old to play with my non-existent child. I’m worried my shoulder and back would be too frail for me to hold up a child.

And I thought, “Grow up, Ken.”