Space Filler

Slow writing today, a lot going through my head. Read between the lines.

*

I understand that sometimes people need another person to fill some kind of lack.

Well it isn't always fun when you are the space filler,
that person,
who is only needed, wanted in

the interim.

I usually know when this is happening, and I let it happen because I like being around people who need a lean-to. But it's always with this

wholly benevolent, ultimately melancholy
understanding
that I am just what is needed rather than one who's needed.

*

Yesterday I posted a comment on facebook that I wished I was fifty.

I don't wish I were fifty.

But sometimes I get frustrated with all of the politics of figuring shit out when you're young. Tedious.

Or being the casualty of somebody else's process of figuring things out for themselves. Brutal.

I am happy to be young, eating peeps for breakfast, going out at night, wearing mini-skirts and sneakers, complaining about things like leg hair. And the newness of everything; the endless possibility.

But, you know, I've never felt like I fit in much with people my age. Either that or I have a natural propensity to feel lonely, even when there're people around me who are present, who care, whose insight I trust, need.

Despite this, how lucky I must be. I'm the girl at the other end of the lunch table, eating alone, thinking, doodling, daydreaming. Wondering if or when home will be.