Wait on me girl
Cry in the night if it helps
But more than ever
I simply love you
More than I love
Life itself
I would have been planning a forty-eighth birthday party for next week-
(Stop it, Bridget. That's destructive, unhelpful, damaging thinking. Let's reshape the thought and see what happens, okay? You're doing great, by the way.)
I'm planning an anniversary party for this weekend for Daniel and Schuyler. Their anniversary was earlier this week and we couldn't do it last weekend so this one upcoming is better for everyone. Especially Schuyler, who is working on a big project and is very busy and so we are babysitting Daniel, who has taken to chiming in with Lochlan's singing, and every song is now a theatrical duet, which is fine because Lochlan's always been incredibly theatrical and downright silly and because the two of them singing I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues while I try and concentrate on gathering ingredients from the menu for tomorrow's party is making me happy in spite of my efforts to sabotage every good thing in my life, as is tradition.
Like throwing pumpkins off the cliff. If you do it year after year after year and then suddenly you don't do it, not doing it feels weird so you should probably keep doing it, right?
(No, Bridget. That's wrong. That's only useful for positive behaviors.
What's the difference?
Positive behaviors are GOOD for you. Negative behaviors are ba-
I get it. Well, I mean I think I do. No, wait. No, I don't get it actually.)
My knuckles are white. My nerves are exposed. My scalp is peeled back and they're poking in my brain. Some touches so familiar, some so foreign. I cover my head with my hands but it's useless and so I soldier on, exposed.
When the cacophony gets too loud Lochlan shuts it down. I'm sure Caleb has some numbers. We'll have it catered. Don't worry so much, Bridge. It's fine.
I heard my name? Caleb comes downstairs. I wonder if I'll ever get used to him wandering around the house. He comes over and Lochlan asks him for some contacts for a dinner service.
He nods, putting an arm around me, pulling me in tight against his shirt as if he can see my brain, see the wires and the lightning and the carnage and the black burnt parts and he knows and he squeezes my whole body and Lochlan's shoulder at the same time.
I got this. Why didn't you ask me sooner?
(Stop it, Bridget. That's destructive, unhelpful, damaging thinking. Let's reshape the thought and see what happens, okay? You're doing great, by the way.)
I'm planning an anniversary party for this weekend for Daniel and Schuyler. Their anniversary was earlier this week and we couldn't do it last weekend so this one upcoming is better for everyone. Especially Schuyler, who is working on a big project and is very busy and so we are babysitting Daniel, who has taken to chiming in with Lochlan's singing, and every song is now a theatrical duet, which is fine because Lochlan's always been incredibly theatrical and downright silly and because the two of them singing I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues while I try and concentrate on gathering ingredients from the menu for tomorrow's party is making me happy in spite of my efforts to sabotage every good thing in my life, as is tradition.
Like throwing pumpkins off the cliff. If you do it year after year after year and then suddenly you don't do it, not doing it feels weird so you should probably keep doing it, right?
(No, Bridget. That's wrong. That's only useful for positive behaviors.
What's the difference?
Positive behaviors are GOOD for you. Negative behaviors are ba-
I get it. Well, I mean I think I do. No, wait. No, I don't get it actually.)
My knuckles are white. My nerves are exposed. My scalp is peeled back and they're poking in my brain. Some touches so familiar, some so foreign. I cover my head with my hands but it's useless and so I soldier on, exposed.
When the cacophony gets too loud Lochlan shuts it down. I'm sure Caleb has some numbers. We'll have it catered. Don't worry so much, Bridge. It's fine.
I heard my name? Caleb comes downstairs. I wonder if I'll ever get used to him wandering around the house. He comes over and Lochlan asks him for some contacts for a dinner service.
He nods, putting an arm around me, pulling me in tight against his shirt as if he can see my brain, see the wires and the lightning and the carnage and the black burnt parts and he knows and he squeezes my whole body and Lochlan's shoulder at the same time.
I got this. Why didn't you ask me sooner?