Just A Little Bit

One Art

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

BY ELIZABETH BISHOP

 

I’ll admit it. I feel a bit scared and a bit defeated. 8 days until I leave.

It’s been difficult. And then it got easier. I have let things distract me and take my mind away from all the pain. And in that time I have begun to heal. But as D-Day approaches I feel a little down.

I have been stuck in this limbo for so many weeks now, this period of knowing I’m leaving but not leaving quite yet that I have gotten comfortable here. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t completely terrified of this new life I decided to make for myself. Maybe the easier thing would have been to stay in the long run.

But no, I’m leaving. Everything is set for me to go. Lorenzo is in NY along with most of what I could call my own. Marco will send what is in BCN to NY. And then that’s it. I get on a a plane and NY is my new home again.

In my head I play out all these sweet scenarios of meeting cool co-workers and eating out at new restaurants. My sisters meeting me out and about and taking the city by storm. But that’s not reality.

The truth is my new job is going to weigh on me. I’ll have forever long days with my commute only to return home to my smothering bickering mother. My sisters will ignore me like they have all these years from a distance. And who knows how easily I’ll meet new people.

Leaving also means finally closing the door on my life here. It means really saying goodbye to Marco and not knowing if I’ll ever see him again. We’re not ending on the terms I would have liked. He doesn’t seem to get me. He seems maddened at my persistent angry sadness or infuriated at my prolonged professions of love for him. He doesn’t get that I don’t want to let go. That I love him. I guess he never will. I can’t make him get it. End of story.

And so with 8 days left I’m nervous. Breathe in, breathe out. I can do this. I will get on the plane in just over a week even if I feel like I’m leaving something behind and moving on to something I’m not quite sure I want.

Sudden Sense of Normalcy (Well, Not Really)

I will never cease to be surprised how long feelings linger or how quickly they dissipate. I had to look back at my last post to remind myself that less than 2 weeks ago I was in utter shambles. And now, I have to admit, I’m kinda OK.

It would be premature to say that I am back to feeling like myself. Though I don’t think I could go back to who I was prior to this exactly anyway. In the midst of all the changes forced upon me and that I’ve made myself, I think I have changed. I suppose I will slowly slip back into some of my old ways. But right now I feel different. Maybe it’s the way I see myself and the upcoming events, I’m not sure. But I’m not the person that was with Marco just a few weeks ago. And I like who I am better.

Despite being a serious monogamist, I think it is funny that I feel the most confident when I’m single. Maybe that is an exaggeration. I feel shielded in relationships, which is a certain kind of confidence and protection. But I feel bolder and happier with myself when I am single because I have to work on myself to feel good. Does that make sense?

Things are good. I finally (FINALLY) got a full time job in NY starting in August. It was the boost I needed to feel like returning to NY would be a good thing.

And oddly enough I signed up for Tinder, some dating App on my iPhone. I read a lame article about it, but decided to download it anyway. If nothing more than to get me the fuck out of my house. It’s been frightening how bored I am. And the daunting idea that I still have a month here finally settled in.

It’s as lame as I expected. All duds. But coffee and refining my dating style is never a bad thing. To a certain extent it makes me miss Marco. The thought of having to sift through all the idiots out there to find one I am compatible with again makes me wanna run back to him. But it is fun getting dressed up and feeling pretty. Being told that I’m attractive and being wanted have done wonders for my shattered ego. So it’s all been positive.

Actually, I would be lying if I said they were all duds. I did meet one Brazilian guy, Leandro, who was visiting Quito for a few days. Maybe it was that he was here just for a visit that made me feel more willing to get involved. I dunno. The first time he kissed me I was disappointed. But I met up with him one more time, and I’m glad I gave him the second chance. I had a whirlwind night flirting and drink out at different bars. And of course it ended up back at his hotel room. Amazing sex with someone sure of himself and sure of what he could give me. From pulling my hair to petting it, it was what I really needed. To be touched, to feel sexy, and to be reminded that these good feelings I will have again.

He dropped me off at my apartment on his way back to the airport that morning. I slept off the alcohol until midday. And when I woke up I had tons of messages from him. I doubt I would date him if he actually lived in the vicinity of my every changing home. But I liked that he followed up. He still does actually, writing me from Brazil on his lunch breaks and stuff. It’s enough attention that I feel flattered and not so much to become an annoying puppy dog of a man.

Ironically enough, just when I’m feeling better Marco starts getting clingy. I half wonder if he’s seen me out and about on a date and had second thoughts. Now that I have a job in NY he left me a note in my apartment that he’s coming to NY as soon as he can. What does that even mean? And he’s tried to find time to meet at the apartment instead of avoiding me. He writes me messages and gets sappy when I don’t write something back. I think he senses I’m moving on.

And I am. I’m going to be OK.