I write to you now from a dark Sunday room, the third day of March. I have been swallowed up again by the viciousness of routine and repetition. My weeks fly by, morph together and blur into a macabre yet functional operation, like grey and greased clockwork. I sludge along, my movements automatic, but everything feels deep and hollow.
In other words, I’m a bit stuck.
And this is normal, at least for me.
Recently, I’ve placed myself into a sort of solitary confinement. After the intensity of the school week passes, my routine is dinner alone, then the coffee shop for art and music and thinking. This is Friday night. Saturday morning feels good, so I find the gym, then hopefully a pleasant lunch with momma, then homework for a few hours. The evening is usually like the previous: food, then drawing as a celebration. Typically, by Saturday night, I finally feel exhausted. Sundays are okay, filled with a few hours of homework, and then errands and exercise and hopefully more art. I’ve also been trying to incorporate a film into the mix, or at the very least a few Ted talks before bed. And then the slides reset and I’m facing another Monday morning.
There are two heavy things that have brought me to this circular habit: my quickly approaching future and my extremely immediate past. First, I want to explore the latter.
This is difficult to write about, only because I want to respect the relationship for what it was, and I don’t want to represent it poorly. After all, there are two sides to everything, and unluckily for you only my side will be present here. But I’ll do my best.
I fell in love, pretty hard, which is normal for me. In anything that I’ve ever done seriously I’ve given my all, passionately and fully, and this has been no different. But it wasn’t reciprocated. I blame nobody for the result. I am so happy that it all happened. Now, even though every day I wish it were different, it’s in a great place, and I’m honestly content with it. Still, I’ve been thinking.
I’m not sure I’m so good at love and such.
But I want to get better. I really do. So let’s learn from history.
In my life involving females, I have found myself in one of three distinct situations:
The first is what I touched upon at the end of summer last year in which her feelings are beginning to blossom and I feel the imbalance. She starts falling, but I don’t, and out of respect for her, I must cut the cord quick. This typically happens around the three-week mark. I’ll call it my three-week complex.
The second situation is logically amazing. We both understand each other on a profound level. Our talks last hours, spanning from the universe to the behaviors of caterpillars. Every meeting is a riveting intelligent feast. I feel no jealousy. I feel sexually aroused, but in an adult way, and I honestly can’t explain it better than that. In this situation, everything makes sense. But I don’t feel love. I don’t feel emotion. It’s dry. I’m indifferent. I don’t pursue.
The third situation is a complete train wreck, an absolute disaster in every sense of the word, the inspiration behind 96% of all songs, the reason for rocky-road ice cream and The Ten Year Proposal, the romantic heaven and hell, the obsession, the jealousy, the bliss, the worthy gooey pet names, the letters and the things that nobody has to do but it’s fun and fulfilling to do them, the cuddling under covers, the two-person club, the dates and the heartbreaks and the ups and downs and ups and downs and downs and downs and downs. The third situation is when Sammy G puts on his chivalry suit and falls deeply, whole-heartedly in love.
I think you can guess what happened last semester.
Alas, here we are, on the other side of all things, a few miles into the road to recovery. That’s okay. I’ve been here before, and I found the end. It’s a unique challenge. But I’m not good at it. I’m actually really bad at it, the whole break-up thing. Fuck, I’ve been trying pretty hard to do it right, but I can’t help but wish every day that it never ended in the first place. Again, I know it’s for the better, but how do you just let love go?
Haven’t we already established that love has nothing to do with logic?
None of it makes sense, and maybe that’s where I struggle most. I wish I could stop feeling so much, but it’s not that easy. I wish I could remember the bad, but sometimes I just see those things as a fault of my own. I wish I could take everybody’s advice and trust in it, but sometimes you just can’t see the end of the tunnel, so you convince yourself that the only way out is to turn back around. But it’s not. The tunnel is inevitable. And there’s an end. I can’t see it now, but I know it’s there.
Like I said before, I feel like I’m not too good at the whole loving thing. I see many couples that are so great together, where they work through the rough, and for some reason everything just seems to fit. I don’t see jealousy. I don’t see insecurity. I don’t see pain and mood swings and unreasonableness. I just see a solid friendship, a team. In those couples I see myself as broken, as defected. And I wonder if I can really do that. Oftentimes I see the third situation as an inevitable failure (relationship of emotions), and the second situation (relationship of logic) as the only formula that has the possibility of endurance. But that’s just not me. I follow my heart.
Anyway. Those are my thoughts all day. Love will eat you, I swear it will.
I graduate in two months. Then I work at day camp until August. And then, I have no idea.
This is the first time in my life that the unknown has not inspired me. It’s emptying me.
I feel like I’ve lost purpose lately. Again, that’s probably the winter taking its toll, and the typical senior in college situation. But I want to be excited about what’s next, not pushed away from it. In my head there are two paths: one is the traditional route, the safe one, where I go to school and become a teacher and everything is pretty set. The second route is terrifying and thrilling all the same, because it’s uncertain, and it’s free-lancing. Along the second route I explore my artistic potential, to avoid bosses and offices and institutions. The second route is following the dream, in spite of everybody and everything. It’s taking the risk that could cost me everything.
In dreaming about the dream, I only wish I had a partner. I wish I knew somebody that could match my passion and desire to do something great in life. Something really big and worthwhile. The stuff that kinda changes the world. But I feel surrounded by too many people that would rather take the first path, the comfortable one, that live just to get by. It’s infuriating. It really gets to me. Where do I belong? Where are the others like me? Where do I begin to search?
Fuck, I can’t sleep sometimes because I feel like now, more than any other time in my life, I need to take that route. This is it. Can I do it?
This is logic versus love, my friends.
Tomorrow, I will give my everything to school. I will kick this semester’s ass. I will be okay with not being okay every day. I will continue to wander about alone for a while as I weave through this unsettling slump. I will regather myself, remember my morals, avoid partying and ugly things of that nature and do what fills my soul with meaning. I have been a terrible friend lately because of this need to be alone, but soon enough I will get through this. I just ask for everybody’s patience with me. And I want to apologize for that. In these troubling months I would rather not be the negativity in everyone’s happiness, so I’ve separated.
To quote a dear friend (and with this, I leave you):
“sometimes I’m just like, “I can’t win, can I?”…then I’m like, “wait a minute, I always win.” …in other words, this too shall pass.”
It will. Until then, I will keep on loving.
I hope you do the same.
P.S. Would you like to watch a video I created a couple of weeks ago?
because I would like you to: