Things I Have Been Sure About
That it is, definitively, The Berenstein Bears.
That I’ll never live more than minutes from the ocean. That I’ll never leave Santa Fe. That, at twelve, I want a boat for Christmas. At thirteen, that I will take Natasha for my absent middle name.
That I will never touch liquor. That I will never try “drugs.” That I will never give it up, my wildness: whirling under late-night stars each weekend, dancefloor drunk. That sleep could only ever feel like a concession.
That I will never be thin. That I will never get fat again. That I’ve somehow superceded the cultural mandate to be small.
That there is a right way—to eat, to write, to live. That I know it. That I’ll have a big family; that I’ll never even think about having a child. That I’ll be married one day, probably by 30. That I have found the one.
That I will never love like this again—again—again. That I will feel like this forever.
That I don’t like “rap” music, or “country.” That there is—or is no—god. That sin has stamped its indelible mark on me, which I must scrub at uselessly for rest of my life. That morality is only a construct.
That I will never live in Portland. That it is, definitively, The Berenstein Bears. That I will never make it as a freelance writer. That I am anyone at all.
This was so beautiful.
Love this, Jamie!