Once when I was younger and my mother was very upset she clutched at her chest and said, “Sometimes I forget how to breathe properly.” And her chest was swelling shallowly and I didn’t really understand what she meant, so I put my small hand on her heart and nothing happened and we were both very quiet for a long time. Later when boys began to notice me and I started testing the feel of curse words in my mouth I began to develop that same pressure on my heart, like someone was standing on my chest and I had to mentally will myself to take deep breaths. When my mother first told me, I did not understand that someone could be so sad and distracted by their sadness that they would have to be very conscious about their breathing, counting nine seconds in between each breath, pressing a palm to the heart to relieve the weight. But after my first boyfriend crumpled my love in his hand like an old receipt and my parents started living in different zip codes and my Grandmother had a stroke right in front of me I understood the weight and did everything I could to run from it. It always caught up anyway.
A lot of people I love have suffered recently and I know that it’s not my fault but as someone who has never really had anyone close to her die, I feel responsible somehow. Maybe I have gone rotten and am infecting the good people around me. I know that it’s ridiculous and even egotistical to think my actions have this sort of consequence, but I guess because I don’t believe in god I don’t have anyone to blame so it just seems easier to point the finger at myself.
When I was little I spent a lot of time in bookstores. Particularly after my parents’ divorce, which wasn’t messy as far as divorces go but was painful nonetheless, I saw bookstores as a place where my deep desire for solitude could be cultivated and–thankfully–go breezily unacknowledged. Bookstores are one of those few public places where nobody questions a person on their own. In restaurants or at movie theaters there’s something deeply shameful about being seen alone. If you have people in your life, why would you ever go to these venues without them? I discourage that kind of thinking, and I love going to movies alone, but it’s bookstores that I favor most because a person alone in a bookstore is a person who is okay with creating and living in their own tiny universe.