Work Text:
Awkward.
Socially inept.
Jiterry.
.
That is Zoey, sure. But that’s also me, especially a younger version of me.
.
Zoey is also caring, earnest and can connect on a deeper emotional level to people. That has never been me. Perhaps that’s what makes me feel drawn to her. I keep looking over to her, watching as she types expertly while listening to what is probably some weird podcast on those ridiculously large headphones.
.
Critical.
Cynical.
Goal oriented
Somewhat intimidating.
.
That is me. Was me? I don’t even know. Ever since Zoey’s prying into my personal life - aka helping me realize how big of a joke my marriage was – things started to change. I started to feel things. My therapist says I’ve become more aware of my emotions. Well, guess what? Emotions are a bunch of crap.
Okay, so yes, I managed to finalize my divorce and remain relatively sane. And I definitely realized that I was in an abusive relationship and have been working through the impacts of that on my self-esteem. That is all nice and good, but why do I keep looking at my 20-something year old coder and feeling emotions? That is not normal. And that is not me.
So there. This is my entry for today’s “feelings journal”.
.
Joan stares at the scribbled messy lines on the notebook with a frown. Somehow, once she started writing to fulfill her therapy assignment, the words just flowed and surprised her. One minute she was looking over at Zoey from her office, the next she was questioning her feelings for the perky redhead.
- Okay, I think I’m gonna need another session this week. - she mutters to herself while reading the journal entry once again, this time with a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach, something that maybe she hasn’t felt in a decade, something exciting and fluttering and that just gets even more intense as Zoey gets up and smiles at her before waving awkwardly.
“Oh man, I am so screwed”, Joan thinks to herself as she smiles back almost as if she can’t help herself.