Crossroads: 35 x 25

I am at a multi-crossroads and just not sure at all how to find the quiet I need to find an answer. Each option feels like I am giving up on something or even on myself but then each option also has this starting over quality that I'm not seeking per se but that I am anxious to do anyway.

I'm anxious to go somewhere and start over as an adult.

I came here as such a fucking kid. And like, in all these seven years, I've found myself body mind and spirit.

Or have I?

Some of the things Iím thinking about include going back in time to 1997 and being friends and sometimes lovers with a person my friends can't stand but with whom I have this comforting relationship of chemistry and a secret language of misfit 19th century European romance that has its own language and its own spiral stairways of not being able to admit fully who and why and when it's time to fold on mistakes or perceptions of error.

That's not even necessarily what I want but it is something that I love.
It's literary.

And then when I think about that, I think to myself that at some point I could try making non-literary choices, choices that would maybe send me into a house with a person who is predictable and who leaves me to my mysteries but has none of his own.

Well, no I couldn't.
I have tried those types of affairs and I know about myself that I would take a massive bleeding wound of a love affair that leaves claw marks and sweat stains over one that is a steady baseline of hellos and goodbyes and lights out.

I've learned that those undeniable attractions for me aren't so far able to be pushed aside so handily or happily.

And recently, three of my past Drunken Sailor lovers has risen up with an offer of more permanence. Only one of them I trust and only him because I can read him in my sleep. He's not dangerous, only lonely and self-involved.

He said, "Please Sarah, will you spend fifty years and grow up with me?"

And seriously, I have no coping mechanism to not be completely melted by that.

It's like I'm 22 with all the time in the world for poor choices or to live with men my family wouldn't necessarily find as charming as I do because they don't see the same romance in broken down that I see.

Only instead of actually being 22, I'm 35 with a great job, a first-class education, massive success and leadership in the sport I play full-time.

I don't have the kind of time I had at 22 to take a flower from an eccentric character because I find him charming and romantic and because I understand his short-comings so easily.

Or do I?

Does it matter?

At what point do you just allow what makes you happy and disregard the rest?

At what point do you just get it already and agree to try to grow up a little more?

Maybe there is nothing wrong with taking a chance to go someplace else for awhile and do something else for awhile and become another evolution of yourself.

Maybe it's totally fine to trust yourself with your weird choices and to not pay too much attention to what other people say because.... so far, your choices have turned out to make you pretty fucking okay.

arizonasarah at 9:42 a.m.

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