"Physicists say we are made of stardust. Intergalactic debris and far-flung atoms, shards of carbon nanomatter rounded up by gravity to circle the sun. As atoms pass through an eternal revolving door of possible form, energy and mass dance in fluid relationship. We are stardust, we are (wo)man, we are thought. We are story."
Sometimes I feel like the smallest person in the world. And lately, I have felt almost alone even when in a crowded room. Almost like I am unable to relate to people that I once thought of as exactly like me. I think that I am suffering a quarter-life crisis. Last night, I came home from dinner with my family and I marched up to our rooftop and laid down on my back. We live near an airport, so I stayed for a while and watched the planes come in and out. I looked up at the stars and wondered what it would be like to visit outer space. To really be out there, so far away. Looking down upon the little blueberry we call Earth. I lit a cigarette and turned on my ipod and just enjoyed being with myself. I felt protected by the cool air and the warm city lights. I thought about how much I have missed being with myself. Moreover, how much I have missed liking myself. But I thought mostly about how forced my life feels right now. The 9-to-5 schedule seems to bog me down at times and I like to imagine how different my life would be if I were able to quit my job and spend my days with nature. I hate feeling this way, because I really do love my job. I just love freedom more. I am craving that balance.
Last night we had dinner with one of my dad's childhood friends. He picked up and moved to Mexico City a few years ago, and listening to him talk about his life brought on a sense of sadness. Sadness that I will probably never have an adventure like that. I am so thankful for my life and my husband, but he is as passionate about staying in Virginia as I am about leaving it. I feel as though I am, at times, laying down in surrender. I thought about where I would go if there was no one here to keep me in Richmond. I dreamt big, too. Thoughts of Canada, London.....or even just the West Coast. There is something so romantic about leaving everything behind and starting a new life someplace else. Then I started thinking that maybe I am just running from something. Looking for an escape.
As I took in the last drag of my final cigarette, I looked behind me and felt an overwhelming guilt. I stood there, looking at our building and how thankful I should be for a pantry full of food and a steady income. I thought about my husband, and how thankful I am for the ways that he has been there for me when nobody else was. I felt like maybe I shouldn't be thinking these thoughts. I should enjoy where I am and let go of these crazy dreams of the bohemian lifestyle that I secretly crave: packing a van and traveling from countryside to countryside, selling art and only keeping enough to get by. And when we finally tired of the road, we would retire to a log cabin deep in the woods and on top of a mountain. I flicked my cigarette butt away, and returned to reality. A warm apartment with the television talking away in the background. Greeted by a husband who loves me more than I am sure I could ever understand.