Life As An Individually Packaged Twinkie

Lately more and more, this is how I am feeling.  The other day, when I saw Redden's individually packaged Twinkie, I couldn't help but feel sorry for it.  Sitting quietly in its cellophane, wondering what its twin is up to, trying unsuccessfully to nuzzle up to the cup of applesauce or banana to serve a substitute for what its missing.

My soul feels a tad more empty than it used to.  As each day passes, reality of your departure sets in a bit more.  The by-products are pretty clear.  I find it harder to have meaningful conversation with anyone and am feeling a bit more mistrusting of relationships.  I can feel my walls going up like the cellophane around that lone Twinkie.  At random moments, I think of something that we did or an inside joke and sadness sticks a knife in my heart and twists for some unspecified amount of time.  

In spite of all this, like the Twinkie, I want to fulfill my potential as an individually wrapped morsel of goodness (I know I'm starting to stretch it...)  If other people can enjoy me all by myself, why can't I?  I guess my biggest problem is that without you by my side, I don't fully know how to be me.  I experienced a similar feeling when you went to Germany.  Luckily, our surrogate triplet was there to help fill your temporary absence.  Right now, she is busy with the return of her husband, and as you and I discussed - there is some circumstantial emotional distance that is affecting that tie.  Brett is another likely candidate to fill that emotional void, but the distance and certain physical and emotional things are preventing me from leaning on him.  Also, the fact that no one can ever replace you or fully fill your shoes, probably makes hearing about how lonely I feel pretty darn miserable.  

And maybe this is all self-inflicted.  Maybe I put up these walls because I don't want anyone else to try and fill your shoes.  Maybe I am afraid that they will be successful.  Maybe I just don't trust anyone enough to be the non-judgmental confidante that you have been for so many years.  I bet that right now you are thinking, 'Katie... I am still that.'  To which I say, 'Yes you are,' but not having you close and not knowing the ins and outs of your day make it feel weird.  I can't explain it.  

So what is an individually  wrapped Twinkie to do?  Well, it could develop non-meaningful relationships with the more perishable items in the lunch box, or stay inside its plastic and make origami of its cardboard tray.  But I am thinking that this Twinkie just needs to get to know the other individually wrapped items in the pantry a little better, while continuing to work on Twinkie telepathy.