on crying in cabs. and minor apartment fires.

i cried in the back of a cab last night. 

the driver asked me how i was and i started to cry. i'd already been crying on the corner of state and madison while waiting for a bus that didn't want to show up. for twenty minutes it didn't want to show up.  

i was tired of waiting (so many times lately that sentence has echoed in my head). so i got in a cab.
  
"what's wrong?" he asked with a very heavy eastern european accent. "you coming from work?"

"no, class. i had work and then an important meeting after work. it's just been a long day."  

more tears. 

i kept looking at the blinking red seat belt symbol because he wasn't wearing his.  

"things happen for a reason." he said with all the confidence in the world.

i laughed and nodded. the nodding only served to shake the tears loose.  

before the cab, after the work and the meeting and the class i went to target to get a few things. while the cashier scanned my items i looked at the reese's peanut butter cup on the belt, at the end of my items. i stared at it.

i thought about what i said just a few hours before this: "this just in: chocolate doesn't solve problems." 

i thought about the four reese's peanut butter cups i had over the weekend while running errands. 

i thought about how fucking good a reese's peanut butter cup tastes. but better than the taste of that is not wanting the taste of it. not if it means ignoring other feelings. there's nothing wrong with chocolate. but there is something wrong if the desire is rooted in fear and anxiety.

i thought about the fact that i know, i know i didn't want it.

it won't fix anything. 

numbing doesn't fix anything.

i put it back. 

i got home and did the only thing i could think of to feel better in that moment.

i called my mom.

"what's wrong, honey?" 

those words, just the sound of her voice saying those words.  

i sat at the foot of my bed and cried.

"it's hard to convince yourself that you're good enough when you can't seem to convince other people. i'm so tired, mom."

"something good is going to happen. it is." she said. 

faith. 

i stopped feeling sorry for myself. i got off the phone and sat down at my desk to wrap ben's birthday present. the pine forest candle i'd just bought made contact with the tissue paper. i distinguished it immediately.

a fitting end to the day. i did laugh, though. thank God i laughed.

but i'm moving. i'm doing. and good things are happening. i'm making things happen. 

i said a prayer and fell into my bed.