mood soup

    I want to get away. I just can't figure out if I'm trying to get away to something, or simply to get away from something.
    This day started a little differently from the rest. I saw my ex-BF driving past the apartment as I was walking to the car. My first thought: "He's even doing it [i.e. driving past] while he's working!" And then: "Now I have to find a different route to work, because I don't want to be anywhere near him." Finally: "Fuck it; I live here, he knows that, and I've got to get to work. Screw his sensibilities."
    I followed him. 1 1/2 blocks East, 1 block North, 3 blocks East. Through the construction (which is currently taking place on no fewer than three major roads into and through town). He drove faster and faster as we went. I assumed that he did so in order to see me in his side mirror, because I was careful to center myself behind his truck and to stick as close as I could so I couldn't see his mirrors.
    Once at work, I shared the experience with some friends. They all agreed that he did it on purpose; anyone else would take a shorter, more direct route that would skirt both "downtown traffic" and the construction. That he simply wanted a chance to see me, as he was driving by at the exact time that he knows me to leave for work. That he's clearly "not over me."
    I had the afternoon to think about it (despite the almost incessant chatter of our Community Servant), and have continued mulling since I've been home. You know what's strange, and rather amazing?
 It's not necessarily about me.      He may have had a stop to make on the way. He may have planned to drop something off at home (which is nearby). He may have simply taken that route for no good reason whatsoever. But there really is no reason to think that it was about me. He hasn't contacted me since...well, since the day after I asked him not to contact me again. He doesn't come to the place where he used to work - which is where I still work. He doesn't call, doesn't write (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha), doesn't talk to my friends or ask his mom to contact me. Granted, I do see him drive by occasionally, but this is a very small town. It literally could simply be coincidence.
    He's over me. It's what I've wanted for months. For a year. More than a year! And I'm still left feeling...I don't know. Somewhat empty? As if something (someone) I could rely on, for attention and weird, misplaced affection, is missing.
    It's not him that I want. It hasn't been him, specifically, really, for well more than a year. It's just (just?!) that sense of being front-and-center to someone. Being fascinating and irritating and can't-get-you-off-my-mind-ish. Knowing that someone is driving by and wondering what the fuck I'm doing awake at 2:AM, or 6:AM, or in the otherwise-dark with only my desk lamp and a candle to show my profile to the window and the world. Knowing that someone is wondering if I'm alone or if I'm happy.
    I want to take a bath in something transformative. You know, when you color your hair? The way you put on various foul-smelling substances, and wear foil or plastic or banana clips, and put a bag over your head and heat it to 200°? And you sit, patiently, hoping - but mostly just believing - that when the itchy heat and the stinky fluids and the stilted posture are a mere memory, you will be thrilled to see that your hair has suddenly (really, not so suddenly) become gorgeous. And it makes you, for whatever fairytale period you can retain it, gorgeous, too.
    I need that transformation. Not to gorgeousness, necessarily (although who in their right mind would argue with that option?). I need to be something that I am not, now, and that I don't even realize that I can be. I'm not talking about being a redhead (been there, and it wasn't all that, at least for me). I'm not talking about being a Ph.D. or a lawyer or a "real librarian". I don't even mean that I want to be the love of somebody's life - not only because I think that such things are far too consuming and illusionary and, eventually, impossible to live up to. I just want - no, need - to be something more than myself. Myself, only...full.
    Where do I...? How can I...? What is the answer?