REAL

I need somebody to replace her. I need somebody real. She is a real live human being but she might as well be a unicorn. She might as well be a mermaid. Not real, but real enough for many many stories to be written about them. Or maybe Sasquatch or the Loch Ness monster. Real enough for many many people to claim they saw them. 

But she's not real to me and that fucking sucks. I even met her once. Face to face, but it's not like I got to really talk to her and it's not like it would've mattered even if I did. She wouldn't have fallen for me. She's got a girlfriend... I'm pretty sure. If I knew how to spell out a frustrating cry I would. I am so small. I am so stupid. I am so invisible. But I need someone to see me. I need someone to want me, for once in my life. For forever in my life. I can't go on liking unrealistic women. It's so pointless and not healthy. I need a girl to draw me out. I need her to pull me to her and make me forget about every unattainable girl I've ever desired, for whatever the reason. Every real but not real woman I've ever written into my stories, pretending that they fell for me, that they liked me and saw something in me that made them want to get to know me more. That didn't judge me on how I looked or how I dressed or how my hair color was or how my face was makeup-less. 

I feel like I'm a pretty normal person. Weird enough to be a little interesting. I have stories. I have trips and crazy little things I've done and weird places I've been to, and even ones not most people have gone to or done before. I'm not needy. I don't beg for attention . I'm perfectly content being alone...until I'm not. Until I need somebody to hold me to tell me they love me and kiss me and want me in their arms and don't want to let go. Want me to call in sick the next day so we can stay in bed together and binge orange is the new black.

I'm extremely independent. I go everywhere all on my own. I do everything all by myself. I'm not afraid. Well I get a little nervous sometimes, or I used to, but just like with anything, practice makes perfect and I am the perfect single person after more than a decade of practice. 

If I knew what to do, I'd do it. If I knew how to be, I'd be it. Is this really it? Is this all there is? Why are so many songs and shows and movies and musicals and books and commercials and literally everything to do with life, all about having someone? Someone to call their own. That is EVERYTHING. That's what it's all about. Not the hokey pokey; love. Connection. A partner or whatever you want to label it. That's it. That's all there is. That's THE THING. And I'm like some kind of alien, not from this planet, so I can't possibly have that. It's reserved for humans. I'm not compatible with it. At least that's what it feels like to me. I mean besides nuns who choose that lifestyle, is there literally anybody my age on the face of this earth that's been single as long as I have? I don't think so. I'd dare you to find somebody who is. And she can't have been in a coma for a decade either. It's just embarrassing at this point. It's like at this point if I did meet a girl who was really into me, if I told her how long I'd been single and how she was my first, there is no way she'd stick around. She'd find an excuse to leave. Why wouldn't she? It would freak her out. It's weird. I know. It's really weird. It's not sad; it's on a whole other level, that doesn't have a word for it. 

That's why I've given up. Not that I don't still have some hope left, buried deep down. Like I do before any trip or anything I choose to go to and be social at, a small part of me hopes I meet someone, anyone. A freaking friend, something. Anything that's real. Real is what I need right now. Real would be nice. But even if I try to not get my hopes up, a small part of me still does. And then nothing happens, I meet no one, no one connects with me, or I think they do but it doesn't end up going anywhere and I'm right back where I started. Giving up again and then another opportunity presents itself and the cycle repeats itself. I'm not going to meet a single person in L.A. At the walking dead premiere. I'm not going to talk to a single person. I'm saying all this now, so that I don't get my hopes up again, because even when I don't consciously think about it, I somehow still do. I still think I will meet someone that I connect with. Someone that lasts. Someone real. And if I can convince myself it definitely won't happen, then there's a chance I won't be disappointed when I'm right. And if I'm wrong, then I can be pleasantly surprised. Or more like a witness to a miracle. Because the parting of the Red Sea and Lazarus being raised from the dead is on par with me actually getting a girl to really like me. Like, like me like me. In a real way. Real is best, not fake. We all know that.

i am a rock. i am an island. i am an alien, but i'm still human

Sometimes I feel like an alien. Like I don't fit in on this planet. Like I'm walking around in human skin, looking like everyone else, enough to not draw attention, enough to not get noticed, but yet I am not like everyone else. And I don't mean that in a "the way you look or dress" kind of way. I mean it in a "conforming to the invisible rules of the land,"  that everyone seems to get but me. And that's the "couple up and have a family" rule. Families are fucking everywhere and it's super annoying... when you don't have one yourself and you're the only single loser you know (in your opinion). And it's not that I should return to my home planet, where I would fit in with "my people." I don't HAVE people. I just don't. That's a fact. Maybe everyone feels this way at some point in their life, but when you have your own family, when you have a partner that is choosing to be with you, choosing to live in the same house and talk to you and be intimate with you both physically and emotionally, that is EVERYTHING and i'm pretty sure most people who have that, take it for granted. I'm pretty sure at some point they wish they didn't have kids that wanted to be with them all the time. I'm sure they want a nights sleep without their better half cuddling up to them, when all they want is to be left alone and sleep in peace. Oh poor them. They have people that want to be with them. If I could roll my eyes in words, I would. I guess I just did by spelling it out. And I'm sure I'll be one of those people, someday. Well let me correct that. I THOUGHT I'd be one of those people. I don't now. Now I see myself on the outside. One day I'll die and my cat will probably eat me, because there won't be anyone to check on me. That's a morbid thought, but it feels more likely than me ever connecting to another human being on a deep level that spawns intimacy both the physical and emotional kind. Every day I play therapist to Moms with babies with special needs and that's fine. I get paid for that and I could pay someone to listen to me talk as well, they're called counselors or therapists or whatever they want to call themselves and I've been to them. I don't want someone that HAS to listen to me. I want someone to WANT to listen to me. And I want to listen to them too. Is that so wrong?? I feel like whenever I hear about someone moving forward in their lives whether it be marriage or having a baby, I feel like I've being left even further behind. As if their moving forward is causing me to move backwards. Also that there's something's wrong with me. There has to be. But there's something wrong with all of us and many messed up people are still in healthy relationships with their spouse. We all have problems. It's called life. And I don't have one. I really don't. I really really wish that I didn't want that. That I could be some emotionless robot who doesn't have feelings and lives their life doing whatever it is they were created to do, but it didn't involve another person. I wish so badly I could be that person. But it's not a person. People aren't created to be alone, but I've managed to survive this long, basically alone. Over 10 years without anyone. Nothing. No kiss, no being held by someone (well minus that cuddle party I went to twice, which was amazing the first time and the absolute worst thing ever, the second time). I may as well be that robot. Since robots can't be kissed or held, well unless they're some fancy high tech kind with skin and sensors. But I digress. I wish I felt nothing when people around me move forward in their lives, get married, have children. I wish it didn't bother me. I wish I felt nothing but happiness for them, I do. I wish that. I wish I could be one of those people that could go out and just have a good time and hook up with whoever they meet and have one night stands. I do. But that will never be me, I just can't do it. But at least it would mean I had some kind of connection with someone, anyone, to have made it past the first meeting and into that night together. Instead of how I am now, void of human connections. I'm sure it's me. I'm sure I'm not giving off the right vibe, but I am who I am. I'm not going to change. I'm a kind, decent person. I recycle. I pay taxes. I help babies for crying out loud. I am ALWAYS nice to food service people, because I feel like their job sucks the most and they deserve human kindness, because I know for a fact that most people are going to be rude to them, taking out their own crap on them. And sure they can be rude on their own, but I still will say thank you with a smile. It's called human decency. I think at one point I was probably coming off desperate with people. Friends. I tried so hard to hang on to college friendships that were never going to last. I tried to force it. I wanted to hang out with them still, but they were already married and had begun their real life. And now mostly I'm just like- eh. Why even bother? And even if I do try, I'm not really that open to it. I mean I'll talk to people, but I can read people really well, too well. I know whether or not they are at all interested in talking to me, within like 2 seconds of meeting them. I don't push relationships. If I do feel something, I do try. I really do. I got out of my way to make some sort of contact with them or gesture or anything to let them know that I think they're cool and want to get to know them more. But guess what? It doesn't go anywhere. It doesn't get any response back, or maybe like am email or 2 and then nothing. And then I forget their names and what they look like and I move on, because if anything, I'm consistent. I'm consistent at being alone. I'm consistent at going places and on trips all over the place, alone. I'm used to it by now. I always end up feeling like I wish I had someone there to share the experience, the hotel bed with in particular, but I still have a great time. That other part would just be nice. It would be more than nice, it would be amazing. It would send a great trip over the top. But oh well. It's just not going to be me. I wish there was someone to blame, like God. But I've blamed him long enough and it's gotten me nowhere. I heard that song again recently. The one about the volcano who is all alone but has hope and wishes or prays every day for someone and then when he is beaten down by the endless weight of nothing happening, he starts to sink into the ocean, but little did he know, his girl was under him in the water, listening to his song. And then she rises up there finally, but doesn't see him and he's down below and can't sing his song anymore because he doesn't have anymore lava. And then for reasons that aren't explained, he bursts out of the ocean once again and finally meets her above the sea, and they live together and their song changes the dream line to "growing old together." If you don't know that song, it's called Lava. And it is a very hopeful song. Even when he gives up and even though technically he couldn't move and look for anyone, but she was right under his nose, which is what they always say. (insert rolling eyes here). I said I was going to print the lyrics and sing the song every day like he did, as if it were some sort of magical formula that will present my volcano gal right in front of my eyes. Well...I have tried everything else, so why not this? So here goes nothing: "I have a dream, I hope will come true. That you're here with me and I'm here with you. I wish that the earth, sea, and the sky up above will send me someone to lava." Did it work did it work?? (insert silly emoji here)

I wrote most of that several days ago and even though I still agree with it, I'm not then nor am now, depressed over it. I'm just stating the facts of my life. I'm not going to pretend that it doesn't bother me that I'm left out of something I feel that everyone who is, we'll just say "typical," has in their life. And again I don't mean typical in the sense of straight. I just mean typical, tax paying, job holding, human beings. Take that for what you will. You know what I mean. I do take a bit of comfort when I find out that my favorite female actors (because really, there are no other kind) who are also my age, are also single and childless like me. Of course they probably have their eggs frozen, but still, straight or gay, I feel a camaraderie that they are still single with me. As if that really matters. But it's just nice to not feel so alone in it. Especially if that someone is someone I feel something for, even if it's stupid and pointless and will never be reciprocated. And if they do find someone... well then they're dead to me. I'm kidding. Stars deserve love just like anybody else. I don't know that anybody doesn't "deserve" love. Maybe not Hitler or certain serial killers... but how did they get that way in the first place? Lack of love? Yeah let's not tug at that shoestring. Or we'll start tripping down stairs.
Go sing your Lava song, Christie... and go live vicariously in your stories you right. Anything else that happens will be a miracle, but miracles do happen... to some people... surely...

a poem by a not-poet

I am defeated, but that doesn't define me
I am alone but I am not lonely
I may be invisible but I see me
I may be ignored but I am still here
I reach up but no one is there to touch me
I jump down but there is no one there to catch me
I will make it on my own
I will not back away quietly into the dark
I am the lightning bug in the night sky
I am the sun at high noon
I will be ok
I will be ok
Even if I go unnoticed
Even if I fail at everything
Even if I don't connect
Even if I can't make a friend
I will keep my head held high
I will be my own friend
I am still important
I am still loved
I define me
I surprise me
I get up everyday
I dance
I sing
I write
I help
I don't lie down
I don't give up
Because I am awesome
Because I am amazing
Because I am me
I am Christie
And Christie, I will forever be

I already have the greatest love of all, so do I really need more?

I feel like I spent most of today in silence. Even when I did have the TV on I wasn't really into anything that was going on, on it. And Mollie, my cat, spent most of today under the bed, which did piss me off and I told her so. I was off work today and wanted her to want to be with me. But she really didn't care. The day flew by and nothing was really done or even watched. I literally had nothing left to watch on Netflix or anywhere and nothing new of interest that I wanted to watch. I did finally go to the grocery store, so I could feel somewhat productive. People from work texted and I responded but if they called, I didn't answer. That could wait till tomorrow. I had spent the weekend and the whole week before, going through my belongings, getting rid of stuff I didn't want. I was real cut throat about it. If it didn't bring me joy the moment I looked at it, I threw it into the donate pile. I threw away all my movie DVD cases and put them into a storage album and did the same with most of my CDs. I sold some too for a ridiculously low amount at Movie Trading Company. Those people are basically pirates. 25 cents for a movie is ridiculous, but they prey on the lazy like me who isn't about to try to sell them online. I got rid of a large bookshelf and got a much smaller and skinnier one to hold my POP FUNKO figures (which are all women characters from shows and movie). It really made my living room feel even larger, with that bookshelf gone. It was the right move. But I did feel like I was trying to do anything and everything to avoid what I thought I should do or need to do, and that's rejoin the dating scene, join a new dating site and try again... for the hundredth time, but who's counting? I didn't want to. So why am I? I thought. I don't know why. I see all these couples everywhere and I suddenly think I'm missing out on something. I write all these stories and I see all these shows and I think- I should have this, I WANT this. But the truth is, I don't. I want to be held by someone that I love and to be kissed and to make love to that person, of course I do, that's something that's never going to go away. That's a desire that's on its own level, but it's not a need like water and food are needs. I don't need it to survive. I want it, and again, on a totally different level than other wants like a million dollars or to go to Alaska. The desire to be physically loved isn't a want or a need, it's something that doesn't have a word to describe it. Well other than "desire" I guess. But that word can have an undesirable (no pun intended) connotation to it, because it can be dirty or evil even. So I don't really want to use it in association to what I'm talking about. But my point being- I want all that, but without all the work. I don't want to suffer through all the boring conversations with people who have no interest in me or I in them. I want to already be with that person. But also do I really want to dedicate my free time to finding that? To maintaining that with someone even the right someone? Do I want to give up MY alone time? No not particularly. Do I want to fall in love and then have it ripped way when they got bored or wanted to move on? no definitely not. I guess no one wants that. The problem is, it's been too long for me. I've been single for over a decade now, so to have someone in my daily life who I have to really BE with day in and day out through all the boring times and everything in else, I don't know if I could even do that really at this point, if I'm being honest. It's been too long without. I'm used to how things are now for me, in charge of all my free time outside of work and other obligations. I might resent them for hijacking all my free time. All day long at my job I give. I care, even when I don't care, I have to pretend to care. Because it's literally my job. If I came in and half-assed a session with a baby and a Mom, then I'd probably get in trouble or fired. They would see I didn't want to be there, I didn't help them with their child and that would be a problem. I'm not perfect, I've gotten frustrated with a child or a Mom and it's probably showed or it definitely has showed, on my face and in my words, but I don't make it a habit. And I do love helping them so it's not faked... the majority of the time, but we all have days. I just can't hide it behind a computer screen at a desk, like other people do at their jobs. So as much as I would love to have someone, I'd have to care about them all the time and it would be like my job, I would want to do it and like it but some days I wouldn't be feeling it. And I guess that's just life but I don't know... wouldn't someone just leave if they didn't feel cared about all the time? Maybe it's about picking the right person. I don't know what that feels like. I kind of feel like I'm writing about some anthropological experience I've never had. Something that took place thousands of years ago and I just can't relate anymore. I'm lacking, to say the least. It's been too long. I can't remember what it feels like for someone to want to be with me. It's like I can't even comprehend it anymore. I guess I could copy what I see in some show, like some robot trying to come across as human. It would take a special girl to stick with me and does that type of girl even exist on a dating website? I don't know. I honestly don't know the statistics when it comes to lesbians meeting the love of their life online. It happens like every minute on Eharmony, but this isn't Eharmony and I'm not a straight girl looking for a quiet, quirky guy who is just awkwardly social and just wants a girl to adore and love and take care of for the rest of his loyal life. I feel isolated here, even if it is a big city. I feel like I've been out in it for years and it's not for me and the lesbian women aren't for me. I don't know who is. If I did finally join a dating website again, a different one, would it be any different? My best friend made a good point to extend the area to reach out across the states. As much as I was against long-distance relationships in the past, because I need to put my hands on that person, this is a luxury I can't afford anymore. It's this or nothing. I'm not willing to try any more of the avenues Dallas has for me, which they are few and far between anyway and I'm not a bar girl, so this is the choice I have: try a bigger dating app (I did a little research and HER seems to get the best reviews) or remain alone for the remainder of my life. Those are my 2 choices, cuz let's face it, I don't look like the kind of girl you approach at Target and strike up a conversation with and end up asking out on a date. That will never be me. So this is it. A part of me ( a much bigger part) wants to continue living out my days in this "giving up" stage. Where I live my life and enjoy my life alone, with no one, not even friends. My friends have all moved on and even though I will always have my best friend, she doesn't live here and has 4 kids so it's never going to be what I want it to be. I had a dream that a friend I used to be close to said, "we just don't have anything in common anymore" and she's not wrong. We're in completely different places in our lives, all my friends I've ever had, are. They are all in the same place together- married to a guy and they have young children together. And that will never be my life. I don't want it to be. But sometimes I just want someone to care about me. To ask me how I'm doing and mean it. To ask what it's like to be alone in all this, not having anyone who gets me. Who understands why I sort of obsess over these female actors and over these shows that have lesbian characters in them. They feed me. They give me life. They live out what I can't. Or what I'm too afraid to live out. They represent me and they are the only ones that understand me and yet I don't know them personally, or they don't exist, they are a character in a TV show. But I can write myself into that show, as a character and live out something that's greater than a fantasy, a reality. Not MY reality, but A reality. I don't need to fly or have magical powers or travel through space and time. I sometimes do in my stories, especially the ones where I play exactly me. I feel like I have to add that Sci-Fi aspect to it, otherwise it's just weird. It's too real life, but not my life, so it's just sad. So I add that into it, to be like- "well this could never happen because we don't have wormholes that take you to alternate universes" (or maybe we do, but the point is there's no proof). I sometimes wonder if I'd stop writing if I had someone in my life. It would be kind of weird and not okay to write out what I wish that person would do or say, because right now I do, but there's no one in my life, so it's not like it's hurting anyone. But I think I'd be very cautious before I let a girlfriend read my stories. I don't want them to think that they are failing if they aren't that girl. I'll never stop writing though, but I would write different stuff if I already had someone.

Last night I was thinking about the song by Whitney Houston- Greatest Love of all. I was thinking about how much it must have impacted my life as a child, even without fully knowing it. It definitely struck a cord with me because I remember vividly singing along to it on my Kids Incorporated  cassette tape, with such passion, such commitment, such...conviction. I probably didn't fully understand it, every lyric. I was young when I used to watch that show on Disney Channel. Kids Incorporated was a musical variety type show, but with more of a storyline than say The New Mickey Mouse club, which I also loved. I don't remember watching it a lot because I'm pretty sure we didn't always have the Disney Channel, but I do remember these free preview weekends, and bingeing on it. I had the cassette tape of the kids from that show singing popular songs at the time, this was the mid to late 80s. And that was by far my favorite song on the tape. I'd sing along, loudly, pumping my fists in the air, and then rewind it and do it again. I was a quiet, shy kid, but not in that moment. Not in my room alone, as if no one could hear me. Maybe my parents saw the value in the song and didn't care if I sang along to it loudly. It's such a powerful song. I'm sure what drew me to it was the "Children are our future" line. Because I was a child and I liked being recognized in a song for once. But I know that I loved singing this line the most- "I decided long ago, never to walk in anyone's shadows. If I fail, if I succeed, at least I'll live as I believe. No matter what they take from me, they can't take away my dignity. Because the greatest love of all, is happening to me. I found the greatest, love of all inside of me...Learning to love yourself, it is the greatest love of all." I didn't know how true this line would be in my life. Maybe it soaked into my being as a child and helped me become who I am today. I'd like to think it had a hand in it. It does still help me to this day. When I hear it, I still sing as passionately as I did when I was that little girl in my room.

Burning...?

15 years. That's how long I had that shoebox for. I brought it home last night from my parent's house. I kept it taped up and in their closet for 2 reasons: one being, so I wouldn't be tempted to open it and two, in case of a fire at my house. Of course there could've been a fire at their house too. Written on the box was "stuff for when I get married." The only thing that I knew was in there for sure were letters I wrote more than 15 years ago to "my future husband." But I figured it would still translate over to the opposite gender, when that time came. But it was the night of my 36th birthday and I was like fuck it I'm done. I wanted to open it and see what was in there and be done with it all. I was pretty sure none of it was relevant anymore. I don't see myself ever getting married. Most definitely not to a dude (thank God), but I don't see myself ever connecting with a woman in a way that leads to that kind of a commitment. Maybe it's just not for me. Maybe I'm just meant to write about it endlessly but never to experience it. I was reminded recently of a book written by a guy who wrote of his experiences as a drug addict. He was even on Oprah back in the day. But then after it became a hit and everything, we all discovered it was a lie. He hadn't experienced it and the world called him a fraud. The book was A Million Little Pieces. I think I meant to read it only because the cover looked so cool with all those tiny sprinkles on a hand. I haven't researched why he did it but if he wanted people to take the book seriously and see it as truth and not fiction, I guess I can understand that. I mean I guess he didn't think it would sell if he wrote it but said "I've never actually been a drug addict." No one would've taken it seriously. I heard it sounds very realistic. If I ever sold one of my lesbian stories I wonder if I would have to lie and say "Oh yeah I've been with a girl before. I've had girlfriends." I write as if I have. I write as if I know what I'm talking about. Maybe no one would read it if they thought I was a liar. But my stories are fiction and I've never said otherwise. I mean they have science fiction in them so clearly they are not non-fiction or biographies.
But that tangent aside, I videoed myself opening the box for my reaction. I immediately saw the first letter I wrote back in April of 1998. I was a Junior in High School and I had just watched the movie Dirty Dancing and I wanted someone to dance with me like Johnny danced with Baby. Ironically later when I discovered I was gay and that I particularly had a pension for naturally curly haired girls, I thought back on that movie and how I was always watching Baby. Like in those close-up dance montages where they show her in like a sports bra and tights and you see her stomach. Or when she's on the floor crawling up towards Johnny. I don't remember ever paying attention to him and what he was doing... the things you realize a million years later. But anyway. I wrote "when I get married, I want to dance with you like they did on that movie. It's one of my favorite movies." That line still holds true today. Except I want to dance with my "Baby" and not a "Johnny." The other letters were from college. All in 2000 and 2002. There weren't as many as I thought. I have written more since then but they are in a different, not taped box. I discovered the common denominator in all of them- GOD. I was raised on church 3 times a week and True Love Waits campaigns and all Christian rock music even though also ironically, my favorite artist was Jennifer Knapp. And she ended up realizing she was gay after some many years out on tour and retreated to Australia after the Christian music scene shunned her. But thank God she's back and she's been to Dallas 3 times in as many years, so it's pretty sweet to see her again. I even got to meet her in person.
In all these letter I wrote, I talked about all this bullshit I was fed in those formative teen years. I thought about how I wrote about keeping Christ at the center of our marriage and remaining pure to our wedding night and I was 18 and prayed that God would give me someone soon because even then all my close friends had boyfriends in our Freshman year of college and they all ended up marrying them. And I also wrote things like "if God chooses me to have you." I rolled my eyes at least 15 times in reading those letters. All that belief. All that trust. All that devotion and dedication to Him and for what? What a waste. I'm sure God appreciates it but he's gonna do what he's gonna do. You have no say in it. Or you do, if you don't believe in him. But things still happen to you even if you don't believe it's any one entity allowing it or causing it or whatever. I was glad I burned that shit. Those letters were not me. Not the me now. I was some quiet, shy, followed the rules little perfect Christian girl. I was the one that did what I was asked to do. I was the one the choir director asked to be friends with the girl with special needs. Asking a popular girl would've made more sense because she would've been able to get her to meet everyone, but I would be polite and nice to her and popular, even in Church, doesn't necessarily mean those things. It's crazy that I believed all that I wrote. I do remember that girl, the one that wrote those letters, but just barely. She's like this meek, lanky girl I can barely picture. She's like the one the girls in the show The Handmaid's Tale pretend to be. All routinely spouting "praised be" and "blessed be the fruit." In all their meekness and quiet obedience. But who I really am are the ones the girls really are, underneath that Pilgrim's bonnet and red floor- length dress. I am the one that says "Nolite Te Bastardes Carborundorum" which loosely translated means: "Don't let the Bastards grind you down." That's the real me. The me that was under there, buried deep under politeness and shyness and Biblical theology and a desire to both be invisible and be seen. The girl who followed her friends. Mimicked their lives, because it was the only example of a life I had. I wasn't told I could be anything. I could love anyone. I could be single. I could not wear makeup. I could not look "nice" which translates to dresses. So I mimicked them and everyone I ever met in college went down the same path. And I thought, what else is there to life? Husband and kids. There can't be any other life worth living, can there? I certainly hadn't heard of it. Or been exposed to it. I met my first lesbian in Colorado at my job there. In 2005. I was 24 years old. A very sweet older lady who loves horses as much if not more than the babies we worked with. She's the exact same age as my Dad, to the day. And she kind of became my mentor for awhile there... years later... not when I actually lived there. Because I still didn't know back then. I was still focused on mimicry.

So this box had more than just letters. It was heavy, I knew that, but I didn't know why. After the letters on top there was a cacophony of heart themed and more so "Christian love themed" paraphernalia. Candles and tissue paper and stickers and note cards. And weird stuff like a VHS copy of "An officer and a gentleman." Why? I have no idea. I can't even recall ever watching that movie. I must've associated it with getting married, though. There was a lame-o book I actually remembering buying in college with my first boyfriend at the time. Because we were so sure at 19 that we'd get married. Well he was 21. The book was called "Saving your marriage before it starts." I kind of hoped the couple wasn't still married but I didn't see anything in my 30 second Google search to state otherwise. There was also a plague with that Corinthians 13 verse everyone uses at every single wedding ever. (More eye rolling ensued). And a heart shaped candy dish and a weird framed drawing of a cartoon bride. All of it went into the trash. Except for the letters. Those I burned in the shoe box. It caught fire more quickly than I thought even though duh, it was paper. But the box didn't burn and held it in nicely until I poured water on it. I burned it in my backyard night. The light of the fire and the smell of burnt paper was intoxicating and oddly cathartic. I wasn't necessarily burning away the idea of a "husband" cause I've known for years I didn't want that and when I realized I was gay it was like a sigh of relief I didn't have to have sex with a guy. As if I HAD to, because it was what everyone else I knew, did. And it was what was normal. Of course finally knowing who you are and what you truly want, didn't make it any easier. Girls are mysterious and I think a million times harder to connect with. Men are simple beings who all want the same thing and don't necessarily care about the deep complexities of a person. I mean men do have lines they draw, of course. Well, some of them do. The good ones.
Regardless, I don't know that I even know what exactly I was burning last night on my birthday. I didn't get a cake with candles, so maybe I just wanted to see a fire burn. Who knows. I'm glad that box is gone...I do have another one though. It's not taped up. But each letter is sealed. There are still some letters in this box that I'm sure were written to a husband that doesn't exist, but I don't feel the need to burn this box quite yet. These letters are post-college by several years and there's even my first lesbian letter in there as well. I write to her sometimes in a journal on my tablet more so than hand-written, but I will give her all the letters if she does exist (husband ones included). If not, maybe I'll burn this box in another 15 years. We'll see. Only time will tell.

Our dreams take place in alternate universes. *That's my theory and I'm sticking to it.

These are excerpts from my journal titled: Semi-daily musings to a love that may or may not exist 

May 1, 2017

I wish I knew that someone might read this but even if I do meet a girl one day, she’s not gonna want to read all this, well this Word document journal is only 31 pages, which is nothing compared to my stories which are almost always over 100 pages each. But it would take her months to read all my stories. I mean I kinda hope she would want to, because to read my stories is to know who I truly am. I’m vulnerable in them because they are an alternate version of myself. They are sometimes quite close to the actual me, but since the experiences in them I have never actually experienced before; this alternate reality christie is just that: not real. I can only speculate what I would do or say in the situations I’m in, in them. But the situations are fantasy. Comparatively, I feel that traveling through a wormhole to an alternate universe with my girlfriend who came down from heaven and previously died in the 1940s, is as far-fetched as the part about me having a girlfriend in the first place and having sex with that girlfriend. Those are equally improbable, at least in my mind. But I have this theory which has no scientific background other than “I wish for it to be true,” but I’m going to convince myself that in my dreams when I’m asleep, I’m actually crossing over into one of those alternate universes. Who’s to say that’s not true? Millions of people believe in heaven with absolutely no scientific proof that it exists. No one has come back from it to say for sure. Sure some have “seen a bright light.” So? I see bright lights too, like when I gave blood and passed out. I didn’t die, but if your blood pressure bottoms out or something like that, you’d most likely see bright lights anyway. Your body’s reaction. If that’s all heaven is: a bright light and people who died before you- bore snore. I’d rather go to my place. So when I dreamt a couple nights ago that I was hanging out with Kate Mckinnon at a house and I was helping her with some project in which I was handing her cutouts of letters; that was actually me in another Universe. And when she sat on my lap and she was wearing a t-shirt and just panties and I looked down and saw her creamy white thigh and felt her smooth skin with my hand, that was actually another me doing that. I was that “other me” for a time, being that I was taking her place in that other Universe for the time being. But then something pulled me back as I was trying to get the courage to talk to her. I knew what I was going to say. But I didn’t get it out before I was sucked back to THIS Universe and was awoken. Maybe it was because I wasn’t supposed to be there. I was taking that other Christie’s place for a second. But what I was going to say was: “Sometimes all it takes is one incredible moment, to make all the other boring, un-special moments, worth having in the first place.” And then hopefully she would look down into my eyes, from my lap, wrapping her arms around me and kiss me. That’s what she’d do, if I could’ve stayed in that alternate Universe a little longer. Well, at least one of the versions of myself is having a fun, sexually rewarding life. One of the Christie’s should.

June 3, 2017

I had another dream about Kate Mckinnon last night. We finally made out. Finished what was started back a month earlier I guess. We were in bed and we were full on kissing. I think I could feel her lips, taste them, even in my dream. A day has gone by now since I woke from that dream early this morning, so I’m already starting to forget the details but when I woke I remember thinking I did it! I can die now. I got to make out with Kate in a dream. I’m good. I’ve accomplished everything I wanted to accomplish. That’s really sad I know. My life is so freaking pointless and depressing that just by merely having a dream where I got to make out with my dream girl, I’ve made it. I’ve reached as far as I can go. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, or I guess I don’t think it could get any better than that for me. That dream is the best it can get. Since I’ve never been one to be able to make myself dream something that I’ve wanted to dream, just the fact that I dreamt it all on my own, without forcing it to happen, I feel “accomplished” or something. That’s really depressing, but it’s the truth. We hadn’t made it to the sex part before I woke up. But maybe that’s for another night. At least I got to kiss her. And it wasn’t something I wrote in one of my stories. It was real. Well it was a dream, but it was as real as anything could ever be for me. My stories are literally all I have, where I make things happen in them that I wish would happen in real life. I write them into existence. Into MY existence. But my dreams are not something I can control. Much like my real life. I had a dream a few weeks back that was terrifying and involved monsters and melting faces. It was so weird you would’ve thought I was on drugs. So I know that I can’t control what I dream. Sure things come up from what you saw on TV that day or something that’s bothering you or just your most deepest desires, but you still can’t “make” yourself dream something and make all the details exactly how you like them, just like you can’t in real life. So, I’m taking this as a win. Score one for team Christie.

 

Live YOUR life, not someone else's.

Sometimes you just have to decide that, “you’re fine.” That this life is enough. If I were living in a cabin in the woods and I had my animals, cats, dogs, deer, rabbits whatever the heck was out there and I had food and I had my imagination, my writing as I do now, I might still create worlds outside that cabin, but I would be content. Maybe I wouldn’t even know that people are supposed to have a companion, a partner. Maybe I would think I was the only person on Earth. I think I would be happy though. If I had a roof over my head and food and animals to talk to. Last weekend, I kinda just decided that I don’t really need anybody, I’m fine alone. And I don't mean that in a bitter way. Or an "I give up" kind of way. I mean, I spent the whole weekend writing mostly, didn’t see anyone or talk to anyone and I didn’t even notice. It seems as if the only reason I get sad over not having someone is when I see others “having someone.” It’s the truth! If Facebook didn’t exist or I wasn’t reminded of others, friend or otherwise having that one person, that husband or wife, then I really wouldn’t care. I mean I’m totally self-sufficient, I don’t need anyone to take care of me or provide for me. I entertain myself, I have my writings to provide worlds in which I can travel to in my mind. I’m not unhappy. I’m fulfilled in my life. I only seem to be really bothered about being alone whenever I’m reminded that most people in the world have someone. Whether or not that relationship is a good or healthy one, I can’t attest to that, but most people couple up in this world. I felt pressured by society and the world in general and watching every single friend I made since grade school meet the love of their life or the person they are spending it with (which I hope is one of the same). If I took all that away, if I spent my entire life away from the knowledge that people couple up, it wouldn’t even cross my mind that I “needed” someone to spend my life with. I hope my point is coming across and that makes sense. It’s been more about being “normal” and doing what everyone else does in this society, this world, than it is about what’s best for me or what I want. I mean sure, yeah I’d love to have someone to kiss and hold me and hold my hand in public as we walk down the street and share life with, but that also means I can’t do whatever I want to do close to 100% of my free time, which is how I live now. I couldn’t spend entire weekends, burying myself away, entering worlds completely unlike my own through shows or my stories I write. I could maybe do that an hour every once in awhile, but I couldn’t and wouldn’t take my attention and my focus off my girl, off maybe any children we would have together, at least not for an entire weekend. Although I’d probably try to get a weekend away from everyone every so often. Whether or not that's reality, I don't' know. At least at this point I’ve been alone far too long that if I ever did meet someone it would be a huge and overwhelming transition for me. I’d probably go get a hotel room all by myself every once in awhile, pretend I'm single again. I’d tell them of course where I was going. I think all mothers and wives should make time for themselves in order to BE good mothers and wives, otherwise you stretch yourself thin and you’re suddenly snapping over spilled milk. My Mom would always gasp and make a big deal over spilt milk. It always made me feel small, like I had done something awful. It was probably just a knee jerk reaction, but when I grew up and I thought about it I was like geez, it was only spilled milk! If it were red fruit punch on white carpet, well then that’s more understandable. But that blame really goes on the mom for giving their child red fruit punch and having white carpet to begin with. All that nonsense aside, ever since last weekend when I just decided that I was ok, that if this was it, then this was it; I didn’t “need” someone  just to feel like I fit into society better (or to prove I was in fact a real lesbian) I have become a more content person. It was like suddenly the pressure was off me to "find the one" and to have children. That weight was off my shoulders, like it was when I figured out who I truly was (kind of later in life than most).  I’m ok with me. I’m ok alone. I wouldn’t turn down a girl that came along who actually responded to me and didn’t ignore me after meeting and thinking there was a connection, because well she responded once or twice, but then that was it! If it happens it happens, I’m just not willing to seek it out anymore. I’m not willing to spend my free time doing things I don’t want to do, only because I feel like I have to in order to “meet someone.” When you take away that pressure to “be like everyone else” even though that ship has already sailed in terms of being in a heteronormative relationship, you suddenly feel free. You feel free to live your life how you see fit. What makes YOU happy. Fuck everyone else. If you think they are out there thinking “oh poor girl, she’ll never get married and have a baby and be as happy as me,” you’re right. You won’t. You’ll be HAPPIER than them, because their life is NOT YOUR LIFE. Their life is theirs and your life is yours. (Plus happiness isn't measurable any way).

It’s human nature to compare: our houses, our children, our husbands or wives, our lives. But if everyone had the exact same life, it would be one boring ass world. There would be nothing to talk about. “Oh your husband plays golf on Sundays. Yeah mine does too…” bore snore. We’re all here on this Earth to tell our own stories and to help others. Anyone. Help anyone. So that that ONE person you helped can have a better story to tell…and then the cycle will continue.