Me at 14... talking to Me at 33.

I can't decide if this is the most self-indulgent post ever... or if it's just the most intimate post ever.

Maybe I'm feeling like I'm one of thousands of people going through this sort of thing, so I don't care who reads it. Or maybe... maybe I'm hoping that by making it public... I won't feel so... damn. I have no idea.

So I'm just going to post it. It's the last page of a seven-page conversation I had with myself and God today. (Thank you.) I'm really just posting this for me to read to myself, and sit with the fact that I've exposed this part of myself for the world to see. Something about that feels important. Maybe because I far prefer to talk about my Mom and Dad, or my other friends, or the benfits of organic produce, or how much Days sucks these days.

I never do anything halfway. :)

So, this is just for me.

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LittleMe: I’m really scared.

BigMe: Come here. (They hug.) I can buy you a salad… some skim milk… will that cheer you up just a little?

LittleMe: A Heath Bar. It won’t fix anything though.

BigMe: Can you do something for me, for free? Can I ask you something?

LittleMe: Shoot.

BigMe: Do you like me?

LittleMe: I would love you… if you were real.

BigMe: What makes you think I’m not real!? I’m REAL!! I’m right here, aren’t I? I just hugged you!

LittleMe: I can’t see myself ever growing up to be you.

BigMe: Well… all I can say is, we can’t see the future.

LittleMe: You’re just… a really cool idea.

BigMe: Can’t I at least be something to shoot for? The top of the stack?

LittleMe: Well, if you were the top of the stack you’d have several CD’s out and be singing and acting on Broadway or Vegas or Palermo, wouldn’t you?

BigMe: Alright, hot shot, I’ll be the second rung from the top. Would it be so awful to grow up to be me?

LittleMe: Are you kidding? It would be fantastic.

BigMe: So… maybe I could be real then?

LittleMe: (scrutinizing) I guess it’s not COMPLETELY outside the realm of possibility.

BigMe: Ok. So Maybe I am real.

LittleMe: Maybe you will be someday.

BigMe: Back to my question now: Will you like me when I’m real?

LittleMe: Wow. I have no idea.

BigMe: Why? Why can’t you say you will like me?

LittleMe: (beat) I really don’t want to hurt your feelings with this… but I’m afraid I just don’t believe in you.

They look at each other a long time.

BigMe: You haven’t hurt my feelings. But I’m really sad to hear that.

LittleMe: I’m sorry. I want to believe in you. Maybe when I was seven…

BigMe: I understand. Maybe it’s too late. (silence) Is it too late for you to believe in me?

LittleMe: I don’t know. Is it?

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God: You know Ouiser, a lot of people don’t believe in themselves.

BigMe: No offense, but it doesn’t help my situation to know that.

God: It doesn’t make you feel less alone?

BigMe: Nope. What good is being one of thousands of miserable people? What I want is to not be miserable.

God: What does what you want have to do with this conversation?

BigMe: Shouldn’t I be asking you that question? (beat) Oh. I guess I just did. (beat) Uh, God… I need some direction here.

God: You can ask me anything.

BigMe: What exactly is this conversation about anyway?

God: You’re hurting. You’re trying to listen to yourself and take care of yourself. You’re trying to address old wounds, work through them.

BigMe: Yeah… but I’m lost. I feel like I’m just thinking in circles.

God: So… scroll up. Make a list of points.

BigMe: This is seven pages long already!!

God: This isn’t college. There’s no page length requirement.

BigMe: Right. Ok then.

Ouiser has not yet made her list of points. Instead, she went to the grocery store for skim milk.