The Missing

by Kiersten Modglin

I’d spent most of the morning lying on a lounge chair that was equally close to the beach and the cabana, where a man dressed all in white had been refilling my drinks as quickly as I could empty them.

I need this right now

the combination of alcohol and attention I hadn’t seen from a man, any man, in years had me feeling giddy and light. Like the fizz at the top of a champagne flute.

I’d been carefree once, too. What had happened to that girl? Life. That was the answer. Life and a mortgage and a husband and responsibilities.

The truth

While most people try to see the positive, without my conscious effort—when faced with a situation—my mind has always gone down the rabbit hole of deception and despair.

Sometimes we know the truth about the people we love; we know the truth in our bones and in the fiber of our being, but we can’t admit it, not even to ourselves. Sometimes the truth lies in the quiet moments, in the first thoughts, the answer that pops into our heads before we have time to tamp down the intuition that we so often do, because it’s easier than admitting the truth.

We’d rather live with the mistakes we’ve made, shut out the things we’ve learned, the way we’ve grown, than take on the challenge of admitting our marriage sucks, or our friend is toxic, or our relationship with our parents isn’t healthy.

“There’s no room for humility in the real world. People only want you to be humble so they can make sure you don’t shine.”

Stop with the poor pitiful us talk. You’re allowed to be mad. You’re allowed to be sad. But you’re not allowed to give up. You’re not allowed to feel defeated.