enough

fuck me, man. i've been writing such bullshit lately.

ha, and my doctor upped my medication. 100mg baby. just months ago, i was thinking of stopping that pill-popping merry-go-round. then the cancer scare. then the return of self-pity.

it's saddening to remember times when you had enough. enough of just anything. i've had times where there was enough love, enough laughter, enough booze, enough drugs, sex, whatever. just enough to keep me either naive, numbed, content.

in high school, being a jackass and swooning over dreamy assholes meant having enough. dealing with parents that knew you were doing what you thought they didn't know meant having enough. the stress of wondering how you'd get though the pain, the angst, the unrelentless yearning for something you could not define meant having enough. watching The Breakfast Club. wearing Salvation Army clothes and telling people you got them at Sal's Boutique because that cute boy taught you to. that was having enough. getting in the damn car for a drive, that fresh burst of freedom was enough. i was still young. things could be discovered and made new so damn easily. and in the midst of that, i was even institutionalized. go figure. i think i was happier then.

in college, freshman year, i had two good friends, one of whom i'm still close with (yes, i voted, G...but apparently your MOM didn't!). we would sit in my room, a dorm that was twice the size, if not three times as large as any other dorm on campus--no exaggeration. having that space was enough. filling that space with scattered pieces of me; smoking weed and toppling over valuable electronic equipment while boys tried on my clothes (what was his name again?); reading the dictionary; playing Total Eclipse of the Heart and Making Love out of Nothing at All over and over and over again to just figure out what the fuck they were saying in that one part. these things were enough.

i think now, i still have enough. my dog. my job. that cute guy i know i'll never have, but knowing i have power over him regardless. my students--sometimes. but why is it less strengthening to be alive as you grow older? i refuse to become a cynic, and i still take joy in a pretty sky or something else equally metaphysical.

i'm not looking for the answer to life or to fulfill some destiny. i think that crap is for dramatic people. generally those kind of people annoy the shit out of me. so i guess that means that i'm not really looking for much. a family would be nice. continuous laughter would be pleasant.

my things that keep me feeling like i have enough are now things, not silly ideas in a young woman's head. my foolishness is there, but it's matched with bills. my smiles are strong, but more inhibited. clothes are not silly anymore. movies not so transcending. there are more important things to consider. there are people to impress. things to do.