A big dog and a Tennessee Williams script started me thinking about all the lives I've lead already. How completely different my life was two, three, four, years ago. Three years ago I was practically married in a real legit home with like a dining room for dinner parties and a waffle iron in Southern Indiana. I owned a dog that I raised and trained from a puppy. Now I rarely speak to that ex-boyfriend and the dog lives hundreds of miles away. I still exist.
I am the romantically fatalistic type who has always secretly (or not so secretly) dreamed of getting married, but simultaneously lived self-pitifully resigned that for one reason or another, I probably never would. It always gets weird in these spurts where you look around and all your best girlfriends' fingers are shimmering.
Sometimes it feels like we're all just wandering around hurting each other.