“If it is important to you, you will find a way. If not, you’ll find an excuse.”
It’s been a while since I’ve re-visited this quote. As the brevity of this year begins to weigh down upon me, I find myself thinking that maybe I’ve been wishing too hard for the wrong things.
“How much is enough?”
“It’s not about enough, pal. It’s a zero-sum game. Somebody wins, somebody loses.”
People fucking suck. As usual. Things always fall apart, I just don’t know why I’d ever expect anything different.
I don’t how to feel at this very moment. I’m at some intersection between frustration, confusion, fear, and elation, but standing in the middle of it all, I don’t see myself as anything but a coward. If only I could find some contentment in the memory of you embracing me or the fact that the smell of your cologne still lingers in my hair, on my body, and in the clothes I was wearing, which I can’t seem to find the will to take off quite yet.
I love everything about you that hurts.
I certainly don’t cry a lot, but give me the occasion to, and I’ll let it out like nobody’s business. I feel insane with sadness, and after hearing some of the most beautiful words come out about my character this week from the people in my life who truly know me and care for me, it’s all fallen apart again. I have to hand it to you, there aren’t many people in my life who can rip me like you do, and I like to think it’s because I haven’t given anyone a lot of reasons to. I don’t expect anybody to be able to describe how or why I’m a good person in 500 words or less, but I want it to be clear how much I try to be good for other people. Even if I utterly hate someone, I won’t go out of my way to cause them pain or humiliation if I can avoid it because I simply think people don’t deserve that in general. But you? After everything we’ve been through, I can’t believe that one inconvenient, yet innocent, occurrence could bring us back to this place and I’m dying inside again. The mental cruelty is bad enough, but I can’t think without bawling, and there’s a pain in my chest that makes my entire body feel weak. The heart is just another organ with blood and vessels, but love and pain really do dwell there in a way that extends beyond physiological science, and I’m overwhelmed with the latter. You rip me in a way that makes me question everything about my being - my character, my sanity, my kindness, intelligence, beauty, you name it. It doesn’t matter how whole I may feel beforehand, one incident with you is like another injection of “why I should hate myself, why I should never expect any good from anybody, ever” into my stream of consciousness. Coming from you, I’ve learned to stop expecting any sort of romantic miracle, but at the very least, I thought I could maintain your friendship and respect. I’ve invested my heart, my mind, and even my body, into making you feel happy and comfortable in my company, but it doesn’t make a difference to you. Thank you, thank you for your honesty and affirming my belief that no matter what I do, it’ll simply never be enough.
Body heat is: mesmerizing, terrifying, and above all, torturous. You sit next to a lot of people in your life, but nothing compares to feeling the hip, the scent, or even the slightest touch of the arm of someone you’re attracted to. It’s mutually hesitant and somewhat forbidden, but there’s such a misled feeling of promise that exists when you’re dangerously close to someone you’re trying your best to fight back against. There’s the sensible click that tells you not to expect anything ever again, and then the maddening urge to just make a move - to reach out and surprise them, however inappropriately, and just know that it’s what they’ve been thinking of and secretly wanting also. But I don’t have the courage, and the idea of you moving away from me or pushing me aside is something that my pride can’t take. Every day that I use red lipstick, wear a flattering new shirt, or even if my hair is looking especially voluminous, I think of what you must see and hope that you think of me as beautiful. Why I’m confessing? Well, I have a bottle of Heineken in my hand and this phrase rings true more than ever: drunken words are sober thoughts. This one is for the unrequited lovers - the ones who would do anything to know how to be enough for someone they care for, yet end up alone, with a pat on the head, a lit cigarette, and the knowledge that any magic felt was just a mirage.
The night really has a way of getting to me while I’m at home. It’s so cathartic and comfortable to be here, but it feels like more of a pause on real life than anything else. I waste so much time, losing sleep, listening to my favorite songs and pairing them up with scenarios in my mind that may never happen for me. For the first time in a while, I’m beginning to see the prospect of something new on the horizon, and not just an exhilarating repeat of the same old horror stories. I have high hopes for what’s to come, I really do, but I wish I didn’t. I’ve made it a habit to hope for the best, but expect the worst. I wish to do neither. I don’t want to hope for the best because my expectations never seem to meet reality. I don’t want to expect the worst because I feel like I’m losing all hope of finding something/someone that could be truly good for me which causes me to fall into the familiar traps. Mostly, I just want to expect nothing but the unexpected, and be pleasantly surprised for once. That’s what I hope for in 2012, among other things. A little late on the resolutions, I know, but we’ll see what happens when I’m thrown back into the jungle in two weeks.
Could you show me, dear, something I’ve not seen? Something infinitely interesting…
I’m definitely not one to take what I’ve been given for granted, but for all my blessings, I have a lot of shitty luck. I can deal with the fact that life can’t be perfect, and I can’t always get what I want, but at the very least, I hope to reap what I sow. Like, maybe not get epically screwed over for what I actually put effort into? Boys, school, you’re all the same - a disappointment, a falling short. I’m doing so much better, I really am, but all I wanted to do was exceed my own expectations this semester and I didn’t quite make it in a subject that I thought I had on fucking lock. Now all I can do is hope that I get the chance to make my plea and fix it, but I have to wait three weeks to do so. Seriously, I hate to say it, but this warrants the occasion - fuck my life.
Today my incredible father turned 59, and I spent most of my day thinking about what makes him such a great man (not that I have to struggle at all to find reasons).
In retrospect…
Here’s to my heroes who have dropped everything at once to come to my side and listen to me when I needed them. Here’s to the truest friends who have spoken up to defend my honor even when they didn’t have to. There are many that I’m close to, many that I have fun with, many that I trust for the most part, but very few that I trust to know not only right and wrong, but how I feel and what I deserve. It’s hard to come across anybody who cares about anything else besides their own happiness and their own relief, but I’m grateful to say that I have. This semester, I realized that people, despite their best intentions, are inherently selfish. The sad truth is, anyone can be nice and treat others with respect. It takes a different kind of person to treat others with care, consideration, and understanding - even when it comes at the expense of their own good time.
No matter how much time is actually lost, there’s nothing better than losing sleep over a good talk with a great friend. You know who you are. Thank you for understanding my intricacies, my looks of recognition, my hopelessness, my maniacally detailed explanations of how I felt when and where this happened. You never needed to give me an ounce of sympathy, but you cried whenever I cried, and you said and did whatever you could to make me feel whole again. Thank you for never being complacent on my behalf - always striving for my comfort and happiness, and that’s exactly what I wish to do for you as long as we continue growing up together. I truly don’t know what I would do without you.
It hasn’t hurt this much in a long time. You know that feeling at the point of impact where you’re trying to hold back tears so badly, but you simply can’t? Usually, I can help myself. This time, I couldn’t, and I still can’t.
All I wanted was one moment with you while experiencing the single-greatest feeling of my life, and that’s exactly what I got. The memory of your hands running freely against my skin, my head nestled on your shoulder, every tiny increase in grip, or intensity of touch, indicating that sense of mutual longing and the need to feel intimate with someone you feel so close to and so comfortable with. There was no need for inhibitions, friend zone code, or the fear of crossing a line that could damage everything between us. I can’t describe it to anyone, nor would anyone really care enough to understand. But at that moment, I felt like there was no one else in the world for you but me, and it’s a thought that makes my heart melt as much as it makes me want to break at the thought of never recapturing it.
