It was yesterday. Or it was Saturday. Who cares? I arrived in London.
I arrived in London having already decided to be different on my return to Los Angeles in the Spring. This is not a large or spectacular declaration - we are constantly changing. We only have to be open to it. You read a new book, and it changes your mind. A new language or proclivity alters your DNA. Someone looks at you somehow, and it glistens your blood. You are moved, if only a hair,
if only your stomach. You watch a film which gives you a quirky idea. Something about the way she uses yellow in every frame. You eat a cube of cheese and decide you’ve been missing out
or
you lose something large - some quiet, stunning fixture. Someone you were to spend your life with
or
perhaps you both decide to try again. Something about landing at Heathrow from LAX - everything feels still, clean, grey, calm(er) …then you drive home through the tree lines, the pubs, the new coffee shops and all the supermarkets you remember. But you, how could you ever be the same?
It is Monday. Or it is not. Who’s checking anymore? This mid-winter, I want to be clearer and cooler with deep undergrowth. I want my hair done and dyed. I’ll walk with even more purpose, but I’ll also take my time. I’ll have more time. I’ll look exactly like myself but better.
I want to say what I mean and not doublethink myself out of the things I want. I want to tell myself what I wish for is neither impossible nor unreasonable. I need to be kinder without abandoning myself and settling for all the mounting things I can no longer tolerate. Sometimes, I’ll be talking to a friend about all the mounting stuff I can no longer tolerate, and they gasp a lot and look at me as if to say -
Of course, you hate that; that would drive me ____)!
And then I feel validated but also like - why do I let things get this way? How do we keep letting things get this way?
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to the utter to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.