Square Peg, Round Hole

We’re having cheesecake. And an epiphany! Will you come?

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There is something nice and tidy about writing in the third person. (Remember The Girl in Apartment 15?) You’re protected — you can distance yourself from your feelings a little bit.

You can look back on something that you wrote, and think Poor Gertrude. My heart goes out to her. She really loved him. Or, lately: Goddammit, it’s time for Gertrude to move on. She has so much to offer — why is she still holding herself back?

I tend to write in the first person. I’m still finding my voice, and it’s easier to just write the way I really sound, without funneling it through someone else first. (Sidenote: I don’t think I’d name her Gertrude.)

Occasionally I talk to myself like I would to a friend, because it helps me be nicer to myself. This is good, especially when I’ve eaten one too many truffles.

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But I’m having a little trouble being gentle with myself, this morning.

I’m just so embarrassed. I mean, I guess it could have been worse — I could have slept with half of Manhattan in an attempt to obliterate the memories of my first love. Instead I just wrote some really personal things on the Internet, and a handful of people read them.

Is this my walk of shame? I don’t know, maybe. I’m happy to report I’m wearing all of my own clothes and the strangest thing I have in my purse is a jar of peanut butter. I just…need it in there.

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He doesn’t have feelings for me anymore. I realized this yesterday, with a thud. With all the overthinking that I’ve done, how could it have taken me so long to consider that option? I am a complete idiot. He didn’t leave me hanging. I left myself hanging. I liked writing about him (I felt like you responded to that), and I didn’t want to stop. I talked myself into hoping, into waiting. Into conveniently skipping over the MANY parts of the story that made absolutely no sense. (Never made any sense. Square peg, round hole.)

I had this epiphany over lunch yesterday. When I was eating a salad and reading about a not-salad.

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And I thought, for a second, that I might need to reach out to him one last time. To ask him — to have him confirm, one way or the other, so that I could really let go. But you know something? I don’t need to ask. I know. I get it. It took me forever and a day, but I get it. I’m oddly relieved.

I’m also a little nervous. Because what happens now, now that I don’t have him to cling to? We might have to ask Gertrude.

I don’t know what to talk to you about, now. Maybe the love that came later? Maybe it’s time we really looked at that. Or maybe not. Maybe we could talk about the guy with the very good taste in chocolate at Whole Foods, instead.

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And about that time he caught me hosting my very own spelling bee, in Aisle 10. Maybe I could tell you how he made me laugh, and how I filed that little scene away in my head for later. And how I ended up pulling it out again much sooner than I thought would. Just to look at. Would you be interested in that?

And oh! Maybe we could also talk about the dinner that I had last night, with the single nicest person that I’ve ever met. I’m dying to tell you about the crispy skinned salmon I had.

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We could talk about NYC, too. If you aren’t sick of that.

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Because I might have changed my mind about that, again. I know. I’m as bad as Gertrude.

{Note: Last photo by @nickersonross.}

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3 thoughts on “Square Peg, Round Hole

  1. yes! dinner and nyc adventures! there is so so much you can talk about besides past love! and maybe we can get you to come explore chicago with me and make this an adventuring/travel blog 🙂

  2. Hannah , keep writing about your adventures here, you do write so well!:) and continue to be kind and gentle to yourself, and I’m so happy to hear that you get it! Your new adventures await, you go girl!

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