SHE USED TO BE MINE

I don't feel very well tonight. I haven't felt well in a while and a half. It's been three weeks since Marcus and I kinda stopped talking. I say kinda, because sometime in between then and now, I was at work at the supermarket, and he bought something and we chatted for a bit, and it felt alright. I miss him, as a friend. I think we were actually good friends, we were on a similar wavelength, and he would respond to my Instastories about books, and capitalism and lord even knows what, but he doesn't, not anymore. Before the thing three weeks ago, I had a hectic weekend slaving away at the supermarket, and he asked if I wanted to take a break, and I felt so cared for. I think you know I have a very good memory, so I remember silly things like Marcus' cat having a hernia, and the things we wrote down on our slips of paper while playing The Game of Things, and how Marcus and I would always have answers that were adjacent to each other's. My heart gets very attached to moments, I have to tell my fingers to pry themselves apart, to let go, Sarah, it's okay to let go of the way things were, so they can be what they'll be.

At times like this, whenever I feel overwhelmed or heavy, my respite is always to come here and write. I don't know why, but the moment I express it, it lightens a load. I think it helps that I've been given feedback in the last six months, from multiple professors, telling me I write beautifully, that I have a wonderful and expressive writing voice. I know exactly what I want to say, and it comes out the way I intend it to, and it feels much better and with much more direction than my feelings know what to do. I think the neurons that work to store memories of men and romantic relationships in my brain lump them together, because tonight I think about asking Joey, to tell me about space. I think about how six years (six! years!!!) ago, I asked Joey what he enjoyed about work, and he told me he likes when kids come in with curious questions. I think about Ben and his cat Tux, and him planting and growing his own food. Every time I go through a thing with a man, one (1) singular man, all the memories of men (multiple) come flooding back, indiscriminately. What a strange thing for my brain to do. 

One time, Jeremy had his hands down my jeans while I was doing the dishes, and his brother Aidan unexpectedly came into the kitchen, so Jeremy pulled away from me and did something else, in record time. Jeremy doesn't remember this happening, but I still laugh about it because I knew something like that would happen one day. The man cannot keep his hands off me (but really, can you blame him?). The ADHD really affects his memory very weirdly. I don't understand it very well. Today, as the women's rep I got allocated my office in the students' union building, and I am looking forward to decorating it. I'm gonna have to move my things and set it up soon, because I'm leaving in a month-ish to Haida Gwaii for my summer job. I have two papers left to go, and I really don't have the energy to even care about them anymore. My brain is saturated with information, and my heart, with emotions.