Middle

There is a party in the house next door tonight. People are outside, spilling onto the back porch, milling around in the dirt between houses and haphazard gravel driveways. From our bedroom, it sounds like they are standing right outside our door, right outside the windows. Laughing and talking and occasionally screaming.

I am in a middle mood. One of those moods where everything is clear, but far away. I thought to be annoyed at the partygoers next door. They are loud, when the night should be quiet. Their voices intrude into our bedroom when they have no right to be there. Peace is hard to come by.

At the same time, I am not annoyed at all. It is nice that they are happy. It is nice that they are enjoying themselves, that the music is some kind of pleasant generic pop that everyone likes; it is nice that even though I can't understand their words, I can hear their smiles. Even if I can't share them. What right have I to be annoyed? They don't even know I am here, listening. I am invisible to them.

I am in a middle mood. I am not foggy; my eyes are wide open. I do not wish to lie down, nor do I wish to run. Bryce and I bought a small cactus in a pumpkin pot when we went shopping yesterday. It was cute and we wanted it. That's what being an adult means, isn't it? That we can bring home pumpkin cactuses on Friday nights, and place them in the windowsill. I have to remember to water it. My bamboo, now more than a year old, isn't looking so well. I can't find a place with the right amount of sun for it. But I suppose it is getting on in age, and it seems the older you get, the less you know what you want.

I was at a party yesterday. Perhaps it was a little like the one currently leaking through our windows; perhaps not. I drank wine, and a little bit of a vodka drink. I talked to one or two people. The atmosphere started to get oppressive. Too many strangers, and I couldn't talk to any of them. I was invisible. I talked to friends, and still felt translucent. Everyone turned into a stranger. I was a stranger. I cried on the way home. Everything felt large and terrifying, and I was small and see-through. See-through, because there was nothing under the surface to see.

I haven't been going out for anything recently. This was the first time in a while. Maybe I should stop altogether.

In lighter news, we have filled our android jar with M&Ms. He sits happily on our table, full of colorful chocolate, cute and green. We love him very dearly.

Sorry for the thought-vomit. It was mostly for me.