Milligan Place

Sorry guys, I'm upset right now and writing is my outlet. Deal with it.

This weekend I was in the city, and I think I underwent the most emotions in the course of three days that I ever have before. I felt happy, giddy, in love, mortified, hurt, angry, calm and sad all in a weekend. When someone hurts you it sucks, but after groveling apologies, talks with girlfriends, attending many concerts together and realizing that there is no one else who quite understands and feels music the way you do, I decided to give a person another chance. In my head. Because, you see, I'm too scared to commit to anything because I hate the feeling of a broken heart. But after mind numbing thoughts and margaritas and drinks with a best friend talking it out, I had finally decided that night to let  a person know how I felt. I felt my heart open and I just wanted to love someone again, and I wanted to be loved and cared about in return. And of course, as soon and my heart broke down the cement walls I had put up around it, it was crushed. Crushed. I felt gutted. And stupid. And the only person I wanted to help me was the person who hurt me, but the person who hurt me never will understand what that feels like, because it's about the 4th time it's happened.

I walked around the west village and Greenwich village before I went home, and I passed the most adorable little inlet apartments called 'Milligan Place.' I just stood in front of it and stared at it and holding back my tears I daydreamed of living in this oasis of a NYC neighborhood with a dog and books that would fulfill any hope or desire I had to find a loved one. And in that span of time I hurt more because I just want someone to share those feelings I have with. I don't want to rely on books and other stories of other people in love. I don't want to have a dog and channel a person into it. I want someone real and tangible. I deserve better and I deserve someone who will treat me like the woman I deserve to be treated like.

I guess some people just don't get it. And that's ok. But it sucks because it takes me far too long to find someone to feel comfortable with. And I wish I wasn't the way I was. And I wish if you listened to Jack Johnson or your favorite band was Phish that I would be OK with it, and I wish if you hated God and all organized religion that I could get past it but I can't. I'm just not that way. So with a heavy heart I'll continue to write and to listen and to write about what I listen to.

And any male that may read this, please remember that leaving details out is lying. Looking someone in the eye and lying hurts more than anything, and as feminist as we may seem, as strong as we may come across, we're women. And we're emotional beings, and as much as we try to act like this isn't true, we want to be loved.

And one day, I'm going to find someone and we're going to live in Milligan Place and have a dog named Beauregard and a room full of books that doesn't even compare to the story that we will have.