I am a forever person. If I find a shade/brand of lip gloss I like, I’ll buy two. So I can have it forever. I worry that I won’t be able to have my hair dresser or dog kennel forever. It probably has something to do with being a Scorpio or maybe something else as trivial. It may seem, on the outside, that I am a hoarder. At the very least a collector. It’s probably more simple than that. I want to keep my happiness. When I find it I want to tuck it safely away for all time.
Not surprisingly, the flip side of the coin is that which makes me unhappy. I wish that I could tuck those bits away too. I can’t. I roll them end over end as if a stone in the palm of my hand. I do my best to be the water running over the sharp rock of ugliness. To smooth it’s edges. To get it to a less jagged bit so that when I turn it over in my hand I am left less severely marked. I have tried building a room in my mind to keep these loud sharp bits. No matter how much force I put against the door, it never seems to fit into the frame. The minute I turn my back I hear the creaking hinge come undone. Almost always one at a time, I hear the thud of the jagged bit roll off the shelf where I have tightly lashed it. I hear its cacophonous ping, thud, ping, thud as it rolls unevenly up to clip me in the heel. I bend to the bit. I put it between my two hands. Day after day I worry it smooth. Smooth enough that it will sit on the shelf, in the room with the unlocking door, quietly waiting for me.
I am a forever person. Anything I have ever loved. Ever toiled over. Everything that I ever pretended to the outside me didn’t exist, has a worn spot on a shelf in the room I have built in my mind.
It is my forever room.