I’m consumed right now with writing this pilot, so there’s little room for much else. I’m entrenched in the world of dating, even if I never leave my zip code, house, sofa, clothes, underwear. I’m in my head, thinking, reliving, asking myself, "what would I do?" Not the me now, who sits in sweats and wipes noses, the me who sulked in her one bedroom apartment, and yet still got up, went on, and told people to fuck off when they slapped a cliche on my condition: betrayed. It’s strange being "over it" but having to relive it all, where it’s almost your job not to be over it. Where you need to stew so it’s real. You need to bring yourself back to that moment, or that blog entry at least, to make sure you’re being authentic to what it’s really like. And I’m there now, reliving.

The thing of it is, I’ve been on both sides, twice. Today I went to the movies. It was my one day off, and I needed to clear my head. Even when I was away in New Orleans, I was still working. Today I didn’t have to think or brainstorm. I just got to be. And what I love most in the world is feeling. There. I said it. It’s true. I like feeling. I like the movies. I like thinking and being moved by art.

There was a moment in the film I saw today, where a ballerina performed on stage. It made me miss New York. It made me miss that life of opportunity, that swirl of a life that felt like it came on a dimmer. I went to the opera, to Broadway shows, on magical dates that I never wanted to end; on shit dates where I actually came home and cried, but mostly a lot of "eh" dates, where I felt nothing at all. Through it all, though, it was a life of possibility. But in living it, I never saw it that way, not really. It was a restless life, one where all I wanted was a refrigerator door with alphabet magnets. I wanted suburbs and Costco. And now that I’m here, on this side of it, I just wish I could have it all. That there was a way to afford space, a yard, and theater tickets, that life could be lived in museum trips and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, that there was room for it all, the mom life, the love life, the walk of shame moments where you feel hungover because you were up all night talking. I realize now I even miss the life I have right now. The one I wake up to every morning, the one I’ve always wanted. I miss it by missing something else. "It was a life of possibility." I have to remind myself that it still is.

FOUR YEARS AGO TODAY: ANGER FUCKING