dangly bits

There are more than two sides to every coin, dear reader–there’s also an edge.

Why do we never talk about this?

On one side is “your gift” right? You’re brilliant. You’re smart; you’re good at math; you know how to speak or write in a way that people want to listen to. You’re beautiful. You’re kind. You’re a mother. 

On the other side is the cost. What darkness came before, comes after, comes as a result? What did you have to give up? What does your brain say in response? What, basically, is wrong with you? 

What made you this way?

They say there are two sides, right? Your gift, and its cost. But what about the edge? There’s depth, see. There’s depth that we don’t talk about.

I love the inbetween. I live there, or try to. I think about writing. I think about falling in love. I think about the things I’m good at and I think about their cost. I drink too much sometimes. I’m addicted to nicotine. I starve myself–or did. I do all of this because my brain is the way that it is. All of it. 

The in between though, that sweet center, is infinite. I could divide it in half forever and it would still be there, holding me together. I don’t know exactly what that is, dear reader, but I know that’s who I am. I am not just one of two things.

I think if I’m to love myself, I have to hold myself together. The dangly bits sometimes drag behind me, but I’ve got to keep a hold of them. I do.

The middle seat is always the worst, but that just means you’re the friend that both people–the ones on either side–don’t mind pressing their thighs too. I don’t know if that’s relevant. I just kinda thought of it now. 

No wait, I got it: the middle is ignored, or written off, but it is where the best of us live. 

This is where the best of us live. 

Right there in the center, not giving too much to either side. Being all of it. 

I love you so much.

–All of me.