If I had lived more lives, I would eat anything. Fried crickets. Peel lobster and shrimp without gloves.
Because this is my first life. "That's why!" I'd exclaim, after I made a left turn without stopping, when I should have stopped. Almost killed between McDonalds and the Ohio BMV.
That's why I stayed up later than I should on a Tuesday night, feeling sentimental and emo. Replayed the same song while I schemed a new Blog episode in the midst of my anxiety. Had I lived more lives, I would have long since dry brushed my arms and belly, given myself a forehead kiss, and melted into a warm mug of milk tea -- knowing just when to pick myself up. Just soon enough. Never a second too late.
That's why I keep dissociating when I'm asked "what brought you to Ohio?" Pft. Phooo-ey.
That's why I care what others think of me. All the time at work. Keeping my face poised but my voice light, as if nothing happened to me. As if, I didn't almost die between McDonalds and the Ohio BMV. Pouring nothing but good thoughts into my pretty little head as a customer tries to illegally structure their money, and I ought to report it.
That's why I craved the Vienna Mall's chicken stir fry so bad instead of craving the fried rice I made just the previous night.
And why I'm not good at interior decorating.
And why I'm the first at my job to volunteer to pass out Halloween candy at the next town's trunk-or-treat. Because I haven't done it before, and heck, I'd do a lot to give out little Wednesdays and little T-Rexes candy.
And why I still dress up for Halloween, holding out my own bag of candy shamelessly while I push my neighbor's toddler in a stroller. A bag for the baby, and a bag for me. I'm still cute, heck.
And why I keep praying to my ancestors. I'm so freaking, FREAKING grateful. Truly. I have hardly done enough to deserve this life. So if I don't deserve this life yet still have to live it, then it must all be a gift. Living this first life of mine is a gift.... welp. :)
This is why I keep coming home with a sweet little treat, every time I've gone out. Like a kid. All the time!
And why I keep accidentally replaying cringy scenes in my head in the middle of the day, and wincing bad. "Ngoc!" escaping my lips. A delayed self-beration. In the parking lot. Whilst dishwashing. Or driving between the river and the hill. "Ngoc!"
And why I still believe I can do anything, as long as I want it enough. Even if it'll make me miserable. And why I jump into conclusions, straight to the happy ending. Like it's already mine. Convinced I can make it home safely, in my head. While some of the decisions I make, I'm practically just convinced, like a drooling, swirling alcoholic.
Why I'm so careless. Why I need to give the MRI folks a callback for my ankle, instead of being afraid. Why I mainly write when I'm bottled up and anxious and self-hating and cruel and nervous.
Why I accidentally stayed glued to the conversation with a coworker, 40 minutes in the parking lot. I'm not a drinker, but then I say "Yes, next weekend is great!"
Why I'm so devoted to the color green, instead of loving every color equally?
Why I impulsively bought a $50 hoodie from Popflex last night. :( BUT I LIKE IT HEHE.
Why I needed to set up a Christmas tree on the 1st of November just to feel like I'm a kid at home again. If I've lived more lives, I would have prioritized a dinner table or couch instead. :I But nope. CHRISTMAS!
Because this is my first life, so I'm scared of so many, many things. I'm scared of hurting myself all the time. I'm scared of making the wrong decisions. And scared of having to make the wrong decisions the right decisions, haha. Scared of ruining my life.
I'm scared of ruining my life.
^----^
hehe.
Who let me drive?!
But also, I'm so glad I can drive. Thank you ancestors. <3
But Buddha, I am scared for my life,
because this is my first life and I'm still in my early 20s.
If I'm supposed to live out this gift of a life of mine, then welcome to the show.
Welcome to the show. :)
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oh my gosh, your girl is nothing but silliness lately. I haven't cried in 2 weeks.
I haven't, oh my god, cried in two weeks. I don't understand why that is. I want to cry, but then I can't and I won't. In those moments, my logic argues and fights to say that it's a waste of time to stay sad about things out of my control, so I instinctively hug myself tight, wrap my arms around myself. I whisper things like, "Ngoc, you're right here. You're nowhere else, but here, and this is a fine place to be. You have all your toes and fingers. You're still soft and always silly but you're so very strong." And then I feel a lot better again. Phew.
Because I've done a giant thing. Being out here.
So of course, of course, it's going to be tough. And that's okay. I'm a good miss bean. I'll be a fine bean.
So maybe, it isn't my first life. Maybe I've lived it all before. Moments like these or having thoughts like these, when I know exactly how to take care of myself, are when I feel like I've lived it all before.
A song I wrote this episode to^-^: "Welcome to the Show" - Day6
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