Thursday, December 8, 2011

Stalled and Trapped

A short story:

Once, when I was a little girl, I went to a public bathroom. It was in a restaurant, after a meal, like when people normally go to the bathroom. After a meal. I was in that stage where I had to explore every bathroom in every building I ever visited. Kids do that, it's normal, I think. I hope it is at least.

The point is where I went to the bathroom, and I had just entered that part of my life where I was mature enough to go to the bathroom by myself. So I went by myself. Escorted by my mother and separated at the stall. I did what people do in the bathroom, pulled up my barbie underpants and made to exit the stall. But it wouldn't budge or work.

Sheer terror gripped me; entrapment. The end of my short little life. “I'm trapped.” My breath became short and my little voice squeaked, “I'm trapped!” I screamed. I pulled on the door, wondering if I could squeeze under the thin little space between the floor and the door. “I'm trapped.”

And I suppose that perfectly characterizes all of my relationships since. I get into these weird relationships. I don't know if you can even call them that. I always think to myself that I'm mature enough for a relationship again, ready to go out on my own, and then I find out I'm trapped. I think of every way I can escape until I'm screaming to get out. But then, y'know, I just get out the way I came in. And my mom's only had to help me a couple times.

I guess the point is that I'm not sure I am really ready to get back into a relationship. But quite frankly, I have to, it's a necessity.