June 25, 2013
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The Rest
My roommate, Anna, says she knows something is wrong when I am awake past 9 p.m.
Last night, she got home at 10:30 and found me standing at the kitchen counter eating leftovers, and she gave me a look of grave concern. Despite the fact that I was already eating, she offered me more food. “You are a mystery to me,” she said, “When I want to love you, I can either feed you or give you lots of hugs. The rest escapes me.”
I appreciated so many things about this, I could have cried.
I feel very incomprehensible to most people, most of the time. There was something strangely comforting in having someone be up front about that. And, you know. The rest escapes me, too.
h.
