Noisy
People who think living in the country is quiet have never lived through an Oklahoma summer in the country. On top of the crickets, frogs, coyotes, and birds, this year we also have an abundance of cicadas.
I was sitting on the front steps tonight thinking maybe the noise would drown out the noise in my head, but it only seemed to make my head louder.
As you know, moving here was/is supposed to be my fresh start. I’m not even sure still what that means for me. What I do know is I’m sad. I’m more alone than ever even living with someone on the other end of this house.
I should be enjoying this time in my life with the person I’ll retire with. Somehow I fall for women who expect me to always be available to them, make changes to accommodate their lives, give up parts of me to fit into their worlds, and take all the risks.
What I really want to know is who is going to do that for me? More importantly; what’s wrong with me exactly as I am? I’m not hideous. I’m kind of cute even to my prejudiced eye. I’m loving. I’m giving. I’m romantic. I’m unique. I have a style that is all my own. I have a great sense of humor. I’m pretty smart. I have a decent job now, which is pretty new. I’m a little broken and bruised, but still functional. I’m affectionate. I’m passionate in the bedroom as well as in life. I stand behind my beliefs 100% until I learn differently. I love learning. I love art. I love stories about survival through the worst of times. I’m empathetic. I get excited about books, music, movies, plays, museums, and new experiences even if they sometimes scare me.
I may not be wealthy or have the right credit score or a fancy degree on my wall, but life has taught me a lot and I place value on people and relationships more than money.
Where is the person who loves all of the mess and beauty that is me? Why am I the only one who can look past what divides us to see what can unite us?
Where is my partner to sit on the steps and hear the noise of an Oklahoma summer night and make it feel like peace? Where is my quiet, soft place to land at the end of the day?
The Messy Mind of Monique Pearson 
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