Like her, I am angry. I feel cheated and sad. Like her, I think he's a jerk. Like her, the hippie life has a draw to me that I cannot deny. Unlike her, I do not like soy latte's with double shot espresso. And unlike her, I like sausage, and bacon.. but I do understand that beans doused in bacon bits are not a good compromise. Like her I laugh often and am happy with simple things. And yes, that girl was snarky, I agree with that.
Like her, I am judgemental. I am afraid of the things that I do not understand. Like her, I love to dance. Like her, I say things that I don't realize hurt people the way they do. Like her, I want to take care and control of people.
Like him, I do not understand the pure type B. I do not get messy hair, and I like tasks. I like getting things done, and I like a game of golf. I like to help people. I like to be a hero. I understand responsibilities and sacrifice. When poked at, I lash back harshly, hoping to wound as I have been wounded. Like him I like to entertain.
Like her, I care about how I look. My own flaws bother me. Like her, I laugh and move and speak, like her I talk schmoopy to babies and puppies. But the dog whisperer hopes to break me of this. Unlike her, I say what I feel and wish more people did. Like her I fear conflict and laugh to lighten up rooms.
Like her, I do not put stock in ceremony, per se. Unlike her I believe in God and everything he stands for. Like her, I cry. I weep when I see my grandmother hug her in her wedding dress. I weep when I see the necklace that all three of my aunts and my two cousins have worn in their weddings. I weep when he said his vows and showed his heart. I laugh when my dad felt him up.
Like him I dance for joy. Pure unadulterated joy that makes people wonder for just a second "Is he ok? What the heck is unadulterated joy? It's been a long time since I danced like that.. I wonder if he's ok?" Johnny B Good. I love her as he does. As the little girl who was his little boy too, she was my idol in many ways and I took her lead in many ways.
Like him I am awkward and insecure, but people think I have this confidence and comfort in my own skin. Like him... I'm so like him.
Like him I wonder if people see me. I am crippled and wonder if people see me. Like him, I also wonder if I will get married before I die, and I wonder if there is cake. Where the hell is the cake?
Unlike them, I have not held grudges. I have let myself out of prison. For I can hold no other in a prison but myself. So I am unlike them.
Like her I wish for the fairy tale. I wish for the perfect fantasy with whispy white lanterns and light streaming in through the gauzy curtains. I wish for perfect place settings and gorgeous flowers. I don't care how much it cost, for a night, it's perfect and I could die happy. I don't care if it puts me in debt, it's a memory and it's worth it. Like her, I schmooze and smile for the camera, and I entertain the crowd and long to be someone. Unlike her, I want the fairy tale to run deeper than the surface. It matters more to me that the icing is on some cake instead of a house of cards.
Like her I'm freer than I was. Like her, I find adoption a special, a precious gift of God's perfection right her on crappy sad earth. I like spirituals sung a capella near a creek and I like chocolate chip cookies and elmo's dressed like birds. Like her I like the spiritual and the sappy and make no apology for it. Dolls and china, jury's still out. I hate him. But more than that, I feel sorry for him.
Like her I'm young and innocent, so impatient, so tired, so very very very loved just because I exist, and so very very lucky. I like giving hugs and kisses and I like ketchup too.
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