Monday, August 3, 2015

Wu-Tang Forever

This one could go a couple of ways.

On the one hand, I can talk about how I was fucking a divorcing man for a few months, mostly out of loneliness and spite. And how, over time, I convinced myself that me not wanting more was some sort of flaw within myself, even though in all honesty, he wasn't a good enough friend to consider upgrading him to something more...

On the other I can talk about these nostalgic and rueful feelings I've been having lately that make me wonder about the whole "it's yours" thing...As always, let's go with the more complex, yeah?

I have a longing to belong with someone, or rather to somebody that I can't explain. I noticed it after Tarzan and I broke up, that I felt this sort of empty, aching thing that seemed to follow behind me like a Charlie Brown cloud. Nobody else noticed it. I was fine; still funny, still smiling, still functioning. And I suppose I was, but, as I'm sure I've said a few times now, I was just edging the inevitable break down.

As of late, I feel the chokehold of that empty, aching thing, coming in waves; some days I breathe fine and enjoy every moment, and others I feel lost, like I'm missing something or something is missing me. The empty, aching thing is also a nagging, persistent thing, as sometimes, even when it's the furthest thing from my mind, it sneaks me and tries to tackle me down. And all the time, I manage to pull myself away from it, get some perspective and keep it moving.

The last few weeks though have been a bit harder to climb out of. You see, I found a box of old journals and poems written by yours truly. I was always charming and crass, and sweet and funny. I read my life as if it were someone else's story, someone's else's life playing out and it made me painfully aware of one consistent pattern.

I was always in love.

Or at the very least, trying my damndest to be.

At first it was only an itch, something that rubbed me a little awkwardly that I could brush off. But as my scratchy, large print looped into elegant mature cursive, as my vocabulary started containing less OMGs and more Bismillahs, that one thing never changed. There was always some boy. Always some girl. And the insane thing is, I don't remember them, but I remember always wanting them.

At the time, this person was the love of my life! I couldn't breathe without them! This was my true love, for real for real this time! And yet, when one ended, another began just as quickly, just as shallowly. So many names, and misadventures lost to time and memory. So many people I neglected to think of as complex and whole people, just as ideas or items to possess...

But the thing is, I'm still that same girl in a way. I'm still searching for someone to love who'll love me back. Most days I'm ambivalent about that basic truth of myself, but others I feel so beaten by it.
I feel like, if it's my nature to love and to be loved and I'm without that basic (or at least in my mind, basic) need, then...what now? Moreover, isn't it sort of pathetic that that's all I really want out of life, to be able to look at someone sincerely and tell them "It's yours?"

I had that once. Of the scores of times, I only meant it once. And though it was a painful thing when it ended, it was a period where my growth as a person seemed to skyrocket. I was blooming. I was animated. I had plans and dedication to them. I had purpose in a way that I hadn't had before. And that makes me feel sad; why does someone else coming into my life give it purpose? Why can't I do that for myself, or why even when I do it for myself does it seem so hollow?

Do I still want the things I want? With my whole heart, I do. But at the same time, a pattern is a pattern because we don't change it. Is it a pattern I change, or a pattern that changes me? I don't want to be hardened and sad, or callous and jaded, I always want to be the crass, charming, funny and sweet girl I've always been, but as time goes on, and I keep getting beat about the face with this one major (in my eyes, anyway) flaw in my character, I can feel myself sort of slipping away.

I don't know what to do you guys.

So I'll just leave it where it is for now.

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