Negau

I remember several years ago sitting at my desk with a wad of bloody tissue stuffed into the right side of my mouth and the hot blinding white light of pain running through my brain over and over again at 2 minute intervals.

I believe I had bounced a check, had not gotten paid for weekend work, had 4 conference calls and not enough energy to schedule that much needed root canal.

My co-worker Vanessa walked by me and asked if everything was ok.

“I am on god’s shit list,” I replied. “I feel like I’m being smote. Smited. Whatever.”

I then asked her to bash me across the face with my heavy duty stapler.

I remember that one morning I was unable to hold down water and was convinced I needed to take myself to the ER for alcohol poisoning. I laid in bed shivering, nauseous and speaking in tongues. I remember telling my ex the night before that if he loved me he wouldn’t make me drink Jagermeister. I remember thinking that point was the beginning of the end and I should never ever ever have to say “If you love me, you wouldn’t…”

I remember making many pacts with divine beings, praying that if I just live through right now I will do whatever you want. I will praise Allah, I will do unto others, I will not covet my neighbor’s wife…just let me live.

Things were so extreme back then.

These days, I’m not so much concerned with living. I feel like if I was hit by a muni bus tomorrow I’d be fine with how it ended. I’ve figured out what I want to do with my life. I have many wonderful friends who teach me new things everyday. I’ve discovered genuine love. I know how to make a convincing vegan mac n’ cheese. This year has taught me a lot so if I ever found myself in the paroxysms of agony again I don’t think I’d be trying to seal a deal with god.

Random blips of chaos happen. They come and go, like most things.

Walking home from the bus stop, watching the fog roll in to engulf my neighborhood, I found myself standing in the middle of the panhandle. Usually, when I stop and think, it’s to wish for things. Someone had told me that my tattoo, the inside of my right wrist, “Negau”, to wish, was sad. They explained that it meant I would never have what I wanted. I would always be wishing. I didn’t have it in me to tell them that they were wrong. So much of it, for me, has to do with hope. There is always a need for it. I wish you well. I wish for things to sort themselves out for people who need such sorting. I wish that one day, good intentions turn themselves into good actions. I hope.

It was never about wanting and getting for myself. It was never about having. It was never about me.

My ex called today and my first thought was that he must want something from me. I was a bit surprised, but not really upset like I had been in the past as I’ve finally figured out that whatever it is, it’s not really about me anymore. Not sure how to proceed and not quite ready to talk, I emailed him.

I wish you well, it said.

And that’s all I can do. For anyone, really. Regardless of the situation.

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