The problem with trying to have an emotional breakdown is that often times, the mundane details of life interrupt. I simply want to hide in my bed and cry, I want to forget everything, I want to drink to numb off the edges, I want my mind, for one moment, to be quiet. But just as I am pulling up my covers and letting myself sink into melodramatic despair... “Jen, you idiot! It’s now July and you forgot to buy your car's city sticker!” As I shut down that overly practical thought and reach for a glass of alcohol, my phone beeps..”Jen, did you go to Rome? If you are here, there is a funeral..Can you cantor?” Life, it seems, doesn’t allow time for wallowing.
Right now, I should be on a plane crossing the ocean. I should be hours away from warmth and my dear Saint Peter, but because I am a coward, I am in my bed with mac & cheese and Jose Cuervo. I miss my Saint Peter, but he would likely be ashamed of me right now anyway. I can’t make decisions and yet I can’t keep trying on different choices like the day’s clothing. I can’t expect people to be there for me when I am unable to be there for them. And so, I try to take myself out of the equation, to stop from failing myself and everyone around me... I make choices.. and then I panic that I made the wrong choice.. and then I am back where I started.. in bed with mac & cheese and Jose Cuervo. And just as I finally feel the tingling warmth of the second shot, just as the circles in my mind slow...
“Oh, Peter..”
