Still listening to The Voyager by Jenny Lewis

I have no idea what you look like but I think you’re tall, because I’m kind of tall and I thought I was built like a wall until I joined a roller derby league and realized how easily I could get knocked down. Well meaning relatives and people I just met ask if you exist and I say no. They correct me and say, “Not yet.”

Yesterday over drinks with friends, another friend with the same “problem” told us about a high school reunion, where a former classmate told her “not to worry”, and that she would find “happiness” someday. Maybe you’re a happiness beyond this and I missed it because this feels like more than enough – this being the work, the people I meet, the books, the things I get to look at. Another friend spoke of advice from his dad, who (to paraphrase) told him to find a girl who doesn’t expect you to give her the world.

I don’t know. The world’s pretty great and I’d take that, any day, over whatever “happiness” I’m expected to find.

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