better than nothing

I'm sitting on my bed, and it's dark outside. There's no moon tonight so there's not much light coming in through my window. But I can see in between the cracks in the drapes, and maybe it's just the light from my bedroom, but I can see out there. A swing set with a slide and monkey bars; grass and weeds and a patio with dusty chairs and a table, and the little house I used to play in when I was much younger--I can't even fit inside it anymore; and a high wall. I can hear cars driving on the other side, because there's no music playing right now. It's just me, the light, the faint sound of the cars, and my mind. No one's home right now.

I treasure these moments, when I can do anything I like because there's no one here to hear me or see me or tell me I'm being weird or stupid or just that I should be doing homework instead of thinking and sitting here, writing this blog. It gives me peace of my mind, even though my mind isn't really quiet or at "peace." I can't count how many times I've realized I shouldn't worry about anything because it's all going to work out the way it's supposed to, but each and every time I do I can't help slipping into the same pattern.

Because when you get used to something, like talking to a person, it becomes such a habit you feel strange and...unwanted if you go even a day without doing that same thing. You question everything when that happens, which makes thinking even worse because you're already questioning everything, wondering what the next step is. Give up? Oh no, that is impossible. Because it's what you're used to. It doesn't even matter what you talk about--you just want to know that person's there, talking back to you. Breaking the silence, even. Just knowing they're there and maybe thinking about you too is enough. It's perfect. Not quite the kind of perfect you really, truly want, but it's perfect because it's something. And something, anything, is better than nothing at all. But you do want more, and you can't deny it.

sincerely,
stephanie.