Is it really happiness when sadness follows so quickly, so heavily on the heels?
Last night, I walked up the stairs.
They are the stairs of my house for the past seven years of my life. Stairs that have been noisily stomped upon, that have caused untimely slips and have broken falls. When sneaking up to my room at 3 AM, they are creaky, old wooden stairs my experienced toes have learned to make whisper.
Last night, I walked up the stairs. To the top.
I saw my bedroom door, and for the life of me, could not go any further. I was so very, very tired. Yet, I didn’t wish for my bed anymore. I just stood there, as close as I can (when is it ever close enough?). Resting my bowed head against the cool, hard surface that I call my bedroom door. I was offered support and took some comfort in knowing that I could take it. But it was all for the moment. I mean, it was a good moment, but that was all it could be. All that it would ever be.
And, it suddenly struck me. I knew this feeling!
I've lived this feeling before…
"It’s not fair.”
Oh, I know such words sound very immature, bordering on bitter resentment. So as I get ready to leave his room, I accompany them with a half-smile and a joking tone. Only I know my smile is due to helplessness. And, that I do mean every accusing , stupidly passive-aggressive word said.
It happens often that when one of us smiles, the other does as well. Therefore, his lips catch my smile. It seems a little unsure, and I cowardly pretend not to notice. I escape. I flee. And I turn away, reaching for the doorknob.
He stops me, “Wait. What’s not fair?”
“No, it’s nothing.” I shake my head at him, giving him another small smile in hopes to persuade him to just drop it. Like telling him is going to change anything. It'll make him feel bad, and me? Feel 1000x worse. And at the moment, I am not emotionally ready to talk about my sorry state of affairs. For it is a very sorry one indeed. I am more than just physically drained. I am too tired to maintain the shattered remnants of my self-dignity anymore.
I am afraid I’m letting my guard down.
But he doesn’t let me go. He lifts the straps of my tote bag off my right shoulder, letting me know he fully intends to get his answer before I can leave. I reach out beside us to grab the metal bars of his bunked beds so that he can’t put my bag down. So, that it hangs there on my wrist. Awkwardly. Defiantly. Foolishly.
He closes the distance between us. He knows he is the cause of my pain. Ever so gently, he pulls me close to him in a hug. He is sorry he can’t return my feelings. He wants to protect me.
But he does not want me to be his.
Because I know all of this and more, I lower my arm. My bag drops to the floor. Along with it goes my resistance. I cannot refuse his tenderness. I cannot refuse him.
It’s not fair.
I close my eyes, not wanting to give in to his offer of comfort when it is so bittersweet and so fleeting. But I lean into him anyways. Can humans be wired for self-destruction? Or is this another one of those just me-things.
My hands fall away from his waist. His catches my fingers. To keep me standing there, in his embrace but not in his heart.
To give me time… And for what? To get over my feelings for him? In this moment of resting my weary forehead against his chest, with his hand around the back of my neck, I feel…safe. I feel that I am cherished by the one whom I cherish.
Right, so I was supposed to ignore my feelings how?
That night, tears would not fall because my heart was already crying.
Last night, tears fell because my heart was beginning to say its final farewell.
Thursday, June 28
Is it really happiness when sadness follows so quickly, so heavily on the heels?
Wednesday, June 27
Before I got swept away in all this current email communication, I had only just posted that I wanted it all to end.
That it should end because that's what I wanted. It sucks when you realize you've been lying to yourself. It's not what I wanted, it's what I knew I needed but DIDN'T want. Letting go is infinitely harder than falling for someone, than breaking up with someone, than resenting someone. Than forgiving someone.
But it is harder still to forgive myself for being so weak.
I could continue to be in denial and say, "Oh you see? I can write joking, happy, FRIENDLY emails to him. We're good. I'm good. Things are good, goddamnit!"
Yeah, things are good until you realize you've just pushed yourself to the edge of fucking doom all over again.
Bottom line? What my heart wants always spells T-R-O-U-B-L-E.
A favorite story given to me by one of my favorite people. *thank you, Kath*
'...people, like porcupines, congregated for warmth against winter's chill, but pricked each other severely, and this forced them to disperse into the snow. However, the cold drives them together again, and once more they leap away. At last, after many hopeful turns of huddling and dispersing, they discover that the only tolerable condition for social intercourse is keeping your distance.
They were, of course, never entirely warm, but neither were they pricked.'
Relatable? Oh, you betcha. On so many levels.
So, do I want to keep my distance? Well, to be honest here I think the question should be... how the hell do I?
How is it possible when I want the warmth. I can't kid myself. I want to feel warm and be that warm to someone special. And, I can't deny. I'm pretty much a sucker for those feel-good tingly sensations, that toe-curling sort of happiness, that sizzling dangerous heat of passion in the belly.
I don't want to have part of myself turn cold simply because I am too afraid of being pricked. But it sure makes me wonder, can a person bleed to death (figuratively) from one too many prickings?
The Idealistic Hopeful in me argues that there are times when the suffering is needed, when the all the hurt, fear and insecurity is worth it.
Because then I am appreciated. Because I want to be worth it. And, I want to know that the guy I foolishly give my heart to is indeed worthy of such blinding...trusting, foolishness.
"Men are like roses, you just have to watch out for the pricks."
Oh, I don't know what's what anymore.
Tuesday, June 26
How does one stop? I always have so much to say, and his replies just seem to encourage me more. I do believe I'm giving without thinking yet again.
Old habits die hard.
They say it takes a person to repeat something 40x before it becomes a habit. Well, at least I'm only on the 3rd (4th?) email. Right, not that I'm counting or anything...
On a side note, I went back and edited the html on the posts where I had links. So now things look cleaner, you know? Neat-o. It's so minor, but am so proud of self!
On another side note, jeez...I really must be crazy to have written so flippin' MUCH in an email to him.
Well, not really.
Just adding some things to the site here and there (i.e. renamed my blog, from Blue Moon to Play the Fool, to now...She Plays the Fool). And, playing around with widgets. I love that word, it's so funny-sounding!
Have made good my own pinky-swear not to track his facebook, but then again does it really count since we're now keeping up an email correspondence? Aha. Here I go over-analyzing things yet again.
I will update with another batch of "Remembering Memories, II" later, maybe even tomorrow. After I finish taking a practice test and responding to his third email...
FYI though, we've currently passed discussing food and the environment, and it now looks like it's gonna be sex and politics.
Safe topics of conversation? HA.
Oh, boy. What a dangerous combination, and what a silly pair of fools we are.
And so she plays the fool, once more.
So, I don't have time to write entries for my blog now that I'm writing my little heart out in these probably way-too-long-for-my-own-good emails to him.
He's literally an ocean apart, and for some reason...it makes me feel safer to give into my feelings of happiness. Maybe because the physical chemistry is entirely removed from the equation??
Sunday, June 24
Had quick dinner with parents and then cleaned up the kitchen (sort of a lonely chore now that Keeks is gone to Northwestern for 3 weeks...end up doing alot of self-contemplation and looking out the window, daydreaming). Then, came back down to the basement to study for MCATs...and discovered I got an EMAIL.
Yes, from the poor jerk I've been insulting for the past few posts.
And, yes I sound way too excited.
Seriously, I must have Type B blood. Yours truly cannot stay mad at anyone for very long.
Especially the people I feel the closest to. Bad thing, good thing...?
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!
We celebrated with angel food cake and soy ice cream last night because everyone had to wake up at 3 AM this morning to send keeks to the airport. Poor mom, similar thing happened on Mother's day...for it was the day RAs could move out.
Mom, dad and I had leftover ice cream for lunch. Birthday girl had the bright idea of putting green tea powder (matcha is it called? forget...) on chocolate ice cream.
Delicious fun, indeed.
Saturday, June 23
Currently burning music on blank DVDs for baby sis.
It’s funny, I found some old Korean music videos on the USB…some of them were a throwback to highschool. Discovered that I am a teeny-bopper still. Lovely.
Also found old AIM logs on USB. Apparently, had not deleted some AIM logs with A. Read through all of them again. Surprisingly, was able to smile and laugh. We are cute. He makes me laugh, that I can’t deny. He may drive me NUTS but he also knew how to melt my heart. Oh, well. It’s getting better. I think (dearly hope) that the worst of the recovery has passed. At least, seems like it has.
Or, I could be getting ahead of myself like usual.
Also am currently listening to Fallout Boy, the Infinity on High album, over and over again. Makes me think of Tony. I keep playing Hum Hallelujah in particular. Love it! It’s one of my favorites and also Tony’s favorite. Christ, I was so relieved that he got sent to Kuwait and not Baghdad. If he got sent to Iraq again, I’m pretty sure I’d burst to tears on the spot.
What is with all this emotional crying lately? I thought it was just PMS, but my period came 3 days ago. My eyes well up with tears so quickly nowadays. It sucks because I don’t know how to fix it.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.
Though, it’s a good sign that thoughts and reminders of A haven't brought up tears lately. Maybe the worst of it has indeed passed.
But then again, I do tend to get ahead of myself like that.
Tuesday, June 19
Emotional Train Wreck, that's me.
Has caused dreaded puffy eyes and random burst of red splotches on face (or was that because an oily, itchy scalp?) It's b/c unfortunately, the health club (Regency one) didn't have hot water today, so yours truly spent ages in the steam room getting as warm as possible. Eh, should've just taken the sauna, but didn't want to get all stinked up when I'm going to take the quickest cold shower (even writing about it still gives me the shivers).
Yeah, yeah. I know cold showers are good for you, but I only take them when there's the option of turning it STEAMIN' HOT w/in the next second.
So shut it, inner health freak. I don't care if it'll dry out my skin and give wrinkles or what have you. I like it hot and strong, the steamier the better... Shit, am I still talking about showers here?
Ha! Talk about latent desires.
Anyhow. Got back and procrastinated yet another several hours by reading Fish's blog. Started from the beginning, July 2002, continued straight through to somewhere between March 2003 and April 2003, then jumped around selective months until August 2006.
Certain posts and some comments got me all teary-eyed up and more than once, I got that achy feeling in my chest. The type I try to avoid. The kind only one person has caused me so far. This one feeling cruelly squeezes all the nerves to my heart center. Brings a ball of sourness to my throat. Cuts off air. Out of denial, I am more than lovesick. I fear I am heartbroken, irreversibly and completely.
Thank you procrastinating blog-reading for making that crystal clear!
Interestingly though, I feel hopeful, too. I came away dazed but stronger in spirit somehow. Not sure yet what to make of that mix. Though, am damn sure that I do NOT like being ETW.
Reading Fish was therapeutic. It was…just what I needed, somehow. Spunk. That's what it is. Yup! I aspire to write as tartly as her, or at least as fluidly. I edit things too much. Or, I write too much. Then go for long periods of not posting. Obviously, the latest resurgence of ETW (and the current peak of raw nerves) is main cause for the spew of posts.
But ETW'ing sucks. I'd rather be MIA.
No, not really....
I just want to be healed.
Sunday, June 17
Lasted all weekend.
The four of us are so connected, when one is happy...all of us are.
I hope this glimpse of how my dad used to be 24/7 means he's finally started moving out of his grief.
I hope it's not too much to hope for.
Tuesday, June 12
Here’s to keeping in touch.
Email sent, yesterday. I think it’s a rather good one, too. I’m surprised I was able to write a cheery, teasing letter (so, I sound like the big nerd I am).
That’s a good sign. Or, a damned good LIE.
So much for Buddhist Pledge #Whatever
Now, must find me some organic red wine from Whole Foods (or if I had $$ to burn, ice wine would be top choice to give my liver a workout) and make a toast to m’lady Moon.
Here’s to a fresh start.
Oh, jeez, I MISS him.
So much so that I sound like a blathering IDIOT in that email.
Monday, June 11
They make me happy.
It's this Thailand green tea commercial where two caterpillars, father and son, crawl to the top for the best green tea leaves...and surprise, surprise.
What can I say? Child at heart. I love things like this.
It's too friggin' CUTE!!!!!
Sunday, June 10
I can’t sleep late like that again, TOTALLY messed with my sleep cycle (yes, I’m deluding myself into thinking I’ve got one like a normal human being).
Now, I’m cranky and damn tired.
Okay, so part of it is indeed due to sleeping particularly late reading Ender’s Game (finished it within the day—amazing!) and another part is due to chronically poor sleeping from this annoying cold (plaguing me right in the middle of summer, eyuck!). Although, most of it is probably due to too much thinking again on all those issues I feel inadequate in, causing my heart to feel restless and my mind unhappy.
As if I’m constantly searching for something, something I don’t even know what.
During my pre-adolescent coming-of-age years, books were my dearest friends, my obsession, my teacher, my fantasy world, my salvation. As I settled more securely into adolescence, my family of four became my solid base in life. While I’m sure they always were my heart center, it was growing maturity that allowed the teenage me to not only realize and admit it, but come to appreciate a rather peculiar family. When all’s said and done, they are the ones that matter to me the most. Yet, I kept searching. Looking and looking...and looking...
And, all I found was a little girl so fearful of failure that she even hasn’t tasted yet.
Coward! If I feel I’ve already disappointed myself, how then can I say I live to love being alive?
I think that’s what I fear most—becoming jaded not because I’ve lived too long and too much (ha, I love life too much for such a thing to happen, right?), but becoming jaded because I don’t know what I want to do and circumstance unfortunately allows me to keep doing…nothing. I need that push, and I need it to come from within.
Otherwise, I’m lost and won’t be found.
Saturday, June 9
Selfish. Self-righteous. Self-fulfilling.
Of all the “self’s” so to speak, I try to be as little of “self-pity,” as much as humanly possible.
But, fuck it.
Am going on a bitter, self-pity, indignant, moping rampage.
Am hopeful I can get it all out of my system at once…and be done with it.
Am being SUCH a whiny bitch...and can't help herself.
Posted by Joanne at 12:08 PM
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Friday, June 8
Today, I am grateful.
I am also guilty. My mother truly is an amazing woman.
Not that I didn't already know that, but some things can be said time and again. Because of her, I’ve also decided: the #1 thing I need in a potential significant other?
He is a grateful man.
And by grateful, I mean that he knows what it means to appreciate. I know that it appears, at first, to be a rather simple and undemanding condition. But we all know things are much easier said than done. Even I have trouble remembering this at times. Human beings are naturally self-focused.
See, I figured if he is grateful--truly grateful and not all-talk--everything else is minor (or naturally, already fulfilled). Eveything else is simply a part of the quirks each person will have.
Since I know that the me-who-is-in-love is a me-who-gives-unconditionally. Love alone is would not be enough for me (I think this helps explain why I'm so afraid sometimes...afraid that I'll give my all and it'll go down the drain).
People could claim, “But, I love you! I love you with all my heart…more than anything else in this world, more than my own life! Isn’t that enough? Shouldn't that be enough???”
No, no, and no!
Of course, the Idealistic Hopeful in me would like to think so, but the Realistic Cynic in me knows better. It’s how you love. It's something you have to continually work at. Otherwise,a girl could end up hurt and disappointed—an unhealthy combination I live to avoid.
Simply saying you love someone may be enough for a time, but not for a lifetime.
They become meaningless words unless you continually make effort to give. They're words to be resented if not upheld.
And, I do not want to ever resent someone's love for me.
You can be lazy in many things in life, but not in how you live. Definitely not how you love. So while I may be a laidback (self-proclaimed lazy) Buddhist, I am still a Buddhist nonetheless and know how important it is to be grateful, to give in return for when you want recieve.
Because I tell ya, karma...she is quite the bitch.
Thursday, June 7
It’s official. I have failed as a Buddhist.
This sad but true revelation came the other day while shifting through old papers around the house. I found this short leaflet of Buddhist teachings, which began with “The Buddhist Precept.” And, just my luck, it was in ENGLISH! Meaning I didn’t have to guess (usually wrongly) at the periodic characters I am too lazy to look up in the Chinese dictionary.
It’s really short and comprised only of 5 basic principles. So I thought that it ought to be quite easy to do for I grew up in a (more or less) Buddhist household. Shaolin monks were my childhood action heroes!!!
Well, you can imagine how dismayed I was (utterly heartbroken!) to discover it just wasn’t meant to be.
You’ll understand by reading the 5 pledges yourself…
The Buddhist Precept
We pledge not to kill living things. Nope can do, what about bees? House ants? And, pesky gnats? That whole gnats thing is especially unfair—I mean really, it’s not my fault the idiots run into my shirt and die!!! The most I can do is pledge not to kill those living things which don’t first encroach on my territory or personal vicinity. Oh wait, what about fishing? And, eating fish! Am I really to go without spicy chicken kabobs? No more baby back ribs!? …shoot, I forgot that true Buddhists are vegetarians, aren’t they?
We pledge not to greedily take what has not been given. Yes! I can do that! After a shaky start, all is not lost. I’ll even be an overachiever and add to it: I pledge to appreciate what has been given, regardless of whether or not I’ve accepted it. Gee, I hope that makes up for my carnivorous tendencies.
We pledge not to indulge ourselves in licentious acts. HAHA. I’ll be an impertinent sass by claiming morals vary by individual and that it’s not only better but practical that I pledge not to perpetually OVER-indulge. Don’t worry, I’ve already pledged to have good judgment! ;)
We pledge not to speak untruths. Tough. Those Buddhist monks are tricky, making everything so black and white—what if a girl happens to take pleasure in her safer grey shades? Fine, I’ll say it all depends but shall vouch to be compromising and tactful. I can, however, pledge wholeheartedly not to ever deny the truth (you might think this part sounds easy, but it’s not! Take me for example, obviously am a non-Buddhist in denial here, but try to keep that on the d.L. will ya?).
We pledge not to drink intoxicants that lead to delusion. You mean no wine and no fun mixed drinks? Oh, hell no. Say it ain’t so, I’m about to turn 21 very soon! You Buddhist monks are cruel, cruel, cruel.
So, you see? I believe that amounted to only…um, 1.75(?) out of 5.
In words, that pitiful number equals not good. Not good at all! I mean, even the question mark itself seems rather dubious.
If my grandmother gets wing of this, she’ll promptly disown the no longer beloved yours truly. And, my fourth aunt will revive her fervor to convert me to Christianity completely by sending me yet another copy of The Divine Purpose Living.
Ah, the future is bleak.
However, I managed to swiftly overcome my tragic and merciless heartbreak. And, I started to wonder… Is it possible to give these ancient guidelines a make-over?
You know, entirely for modernity’s sake, of course.
The (Jo-lightened) Version for the Laidback Buddhist
Life is short—we pledge not to take things so seriously. Newly added, this is the most important one.
We pledge to eat a diverse array of meat and seafood so that we fairly treat all living things EQUALLY. Oh, and we pledge to kill gnats, too.
We pledge to take only what has been given. Appreciation gets you brownie points.
We pledge not to perpetually over-indulge. Of course, inherent good judgment implied.
We pledge to speak the truth, albeit tactfully. Overcoming denial is the first step to accepting we’re all crazy.
We pledge to drink (moderately, of course) for good health and to even better living. This is personal favorite.
Now surely, I’ve found my branch of Buddhism—for most of all, I pledge to be happy.
(Okay, okay! Permission to dub yours truly a lazy Buddhist. Am guilty as charged.)
Wednesday, June 6
I know relationships aren’t easy. I can handle some bumps in the road—in fact I’ll always expect some. A bond easily formed can be easily broken, I got it.
But, it ought not to be this complicated either, right?
I mean, it always seems to be a lose-lose situation with him: I can continue being hurt by the bittersweet moments, being driven crazy by simply waiting, being unable to expect or demand anything. OR, forget the whole torturous ordeal, regret something and then, definitely end up feeling hypocritical.
Obviously, I think I’d always choose the first option… I can’t respect hypocrites.
When I lose my heart, it’s completely—
Idealists don’t give up (unless it’s hoping for the better).
Romantics don’t let go (unless the dream is completely broken).
Sentimentalists don’t stop thinking about it (unless time removes it from the forefront).
And, well? Whaddya know, yours truly is sincerely and unfortunately ALL of the above.
Until now, I don’t think I completely understood why the people who knew me best thought he was not good for me. I was always quick to take offense—I trust myself, and shouldn’t I know? True, I’ve been given a good share of sweetness and joy from him. And despite all the complication and heartache, I’ve discovered more about myself and relationships. Surely, that counts for something.
A lesson learned the hard way is a lesson hard-earned.
But, you know…
I’m starting to realize that it’s NOT that the people I’m closest to know me BETTER than I know myself. On the contrary, it only seems as such because they come to similar, if not exact same, conclusions faster and surer than me.
While I’ll always make my own choices--my friends, well... it's nice to know my over-analyzed thoughts have got company and I'm not completely crazy. Yet.
Misono: “He kissed you!! Wow, your first kiss. Does that mean you guys are dating now? (Me: HAHA…um, no.) Oh. Then why did he kiss you?!”
Peter: “Dang, sounds like you two are off to a rough start. Let me know how things go with your jujitsu guy.”
Phil: “He doesn’t know? Haha, sounds like he’s the girl, and you’re the guy in the relationship. Hey, by the way, can he play basketball…?”
Tony: “I don’t think it is good idea when a girl tells a guy she likes him. For the guy, that’s like a green-light because he knows he can probably do what he wants with her. Honestly, he probably doesn’t care that you worry so much. So don’t, worry. If you want to have fun, then go and be make-out buddies—but yeah, yeah, I know… For you it’s serious. I don’t think you should lose your virginity to him, though. He’s one confused motherf*cker.” (Oh, Tony…how I miss you! Come back safe from overseas. I won't forgive you if you don't.)
Holly: “I think he’s a great guy, but he’s not good enough for you. I’m saying this not because you’re my friend or because I think very highly of you, but because I think you deserve better.”
Kath: “So, you’d rather have what you can now, and have it end, than have nothing at all? Well, if you’re happy, I’m happy. I’m still annoyed with him…”
Megan: “I do like him. I just don’t like him with you. I’m referring to him as ‘daggers’ from now on (alternatively jabs both index fingers downwards). You know, Jim doesn’t like him for you either and thinks [A] is not ready at this point in his life…like, maybe later on. (sly look from the side) How is Garrett?”
Vy: “Indecisiveness is really unattractive in a guy, particularly in relationships. Why can’t you cut him off? He takes advantage of you. He’s self-absorbed and selfish. And, you’re too giving! He’s not good for you. I’m telling you this because I’m not going to stand by and see you be drawn back in again.”
Stephen: “I don’t really know him, so I don’t not like him. Friends may say things because they get jealous that you’ll spend more time with him. Or maybe, they’re right and he really is a douchebag. If things don’t change even after you’ve told him everything… Well, you’ve got more important things to worry about, like SCHOOL. Go study, young lady!!!”
Cat: “What do you mean? Girl, you’re still not over him? I thought that was what break was supposed to be for. You can decide what you want, but at the end of the day, it’s not worth all the pain he’s causing you, MOVE ON ALREADY.”
Mickey: “He’s my friend and I think he’s a good guy, but he’s the kind of guy I wouldn’t let my own sister hang out with. So, I think you should stop hanging out with him. I think he’d ruin a good girl, like you… I mean, whenever we talk, he’s always talking about a bunch of girls.”
(EDIT: added 6/7) Mom: “He looks...too rough for you. He seems complicated, and I know you, you’re too simple. It would be difficult to be his girlfriend or wife. And, growing up in DC and going to an international school, surely he must’ve played a lot of girls. Why are you laughing?? No, I’m not going to continue until you stop laughing…is what I said, wrong? Listen to me, it doesn’t matter what other people said. But that [Vy] said he’s no good for you, and she’s right because she’s lived with you for two years. She knows who you are.”
But ma, I know how I am, too...
Nothing could've stopped me from losing my heart to him. Even looking back, I know. Absolutely nothing.
I live to the point of tears even if it breaks my heart.
Tuesday, June 5
“There are many ways of breaking a heart. Stories were full of hearts broken by love, but what really broke a heart was taking away its dream—whatever that dream might be” Pearl S. Buck
I probably have many more knots than this to untangle...
...but this should be a good start.
The Very First Knot:
The other day, feelings of helplessness persuaded me that I couldn’t let go of him unless he let me go first.
Being of bit saner mind now, I’ve realized that such thinking would be a grave injustice to me. I’d harm myself more if I were to simply wait for someone (who can’t return my heart, and yet also seems to be unwilling to relinquish his hold) to let go first. Well, given my disposition (and his too, I s’pose), I could very easily remain attached to him, letting things stay where they fall…but honestly, at what cost?
This past year has had enough of that push-pull bull. Whether or not this is indeed the case, it seems to me like I’ll always be at his mercy, whim, and convenience—the result of my giving with no constraints and with no expectations. I had one of those D’oh! moments where I realized that I needed to ground myself first. Otherwise he can very easily draw me back in a year from now when he comes back to walk at graduation. While I’m sure he would be just fine, at least more so than me, if a year from now if we were strictly and straightforwardly (is it really possible, I wonder?) friends…I would not be, unless I stop foolishly hoping for something that’s an illusion. I do mind being at the mercy of someone who keeps bringing me more distress, more confusion and more complications—all of which seems to be compounded with time!
It’s a sad but true prediction that I could very well fall head over heels for him again if I’m not careful and honest with myself in truly getting over him.
He is my first, in a lot of things.
I wonder if that’s why I’ve such a hard time—WAIT! He may be my first for many things, but he’s not my last. Well, that knot was a lot easier than I thought. Then again, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself.
That seems to happen often.
Third Knot to Untangle
He held my hand.
That's right, he held my hand knowing exactly how much such a gesture means to me…because sometime in the last week of school, I had said that as much I wanted him to hold my hand I knew he’d never do such a (his words) confirmation of a relationship type thing and that as much as it hurt, I understood and have come to accept it.
However, I think honest communication with him puts me at the disadvantage—at least, it always feels that way! I feel so vulnerable when my feelings are laid open like that, even more so because while I may be more invested emotionally…he sets the pace.
And, the worst thing is I can’t even bring myself to be completely mad at him for doing (yet again!) something that basically guarantees melting my heart once more. I can only be frustrated because…the way he held my hand—god, it was really sweet.
I wish I could blame him (“You know I can’t resist you, especially since I’ve said I rather not ruin what little time I have left with you…and you know damn well how much I like you!”), but I can’t.
Try as I might (and, boy have I tried!), I really, really…can’t. I hold myself too accountable, and futilely wonder why I don’t hold him accountable for his actions as well. But see, I do know why. The memory created is so heartbreakingly sweet, so unexpected and so…very tender. He has this way of initiating and then patiently waiting for me to accept (which of course I do) before continuing. When he kept our hands interlaced to shift gears and I finally turned to look at his side profile…let me tell you, my breath caught. And at that moment, I knew just how perilously close to the point of no return I had come. I’ll admit, it seems rather dramatic of a description for such a simple action, but it explains why he appeals so much to my romantic, idealistic, and sentimental side…
The extent to which I am such an idealistic and sentimental romantic is, at length, being realized.
Sunday, June 3
Say it, say it again. We shake, shake, shake those hips.
Riddikulous Gudgeon! Don't forget to smile.
Thank you, Georgette Heyer. This cheers me up for some odd reason. But then again, I am rather odd like that.
I refuse to tag this post properly. I already devote too much to him already.
*sigh* I'm SUCH a dork.
Saturday, June 2
“O” for what?
Well, there’s organic since I adore all foods organic (except organic chemistry *insert shudder*). However, Vy would be the first to shout out (only she’d never raise her voice, ha!) that I meant it for “orgasmic." Shoot, maybe I really should join that facebook group she linked me to, something about “it’s not my fault everything I say can be misconstrued as sexual innuendo.”
Admittedly, I do consider orgasms a Very Important pleasure point. But that passionate-impulsive-in-the-moment-kind-of-good livin’ can mean just as much as, if not more than, some real good lovin'.
Like, savoring fresh raspberries, dipped in honey
Or encountering a really good musical piece
A close competitive game of ping-pong (and winning it, of
Speeding down a winding road along the countryside
A sweet, lingering butterfly kiss on the corner of the lips
Acing that damned test
Sharing a moment of hilarity (or insanity)…
But, I digress.
No, the “O” factor of the day is my admired Oprah Winfrey, who is quoted as saying, “I define JOY as a sustained sense of well-being and internal peace—a connection to what matters.”
Well said from a woman of excellent caliber and more than fair judgement. And, like all sound advice—easier said than done. I mean from Oprah’s definition of joy, all it comes down to is first defining what matters to you, stay connected to it, and then….
…wal-LAH! Thou art JOYFUL. Easy-peasy (or is it?).
So you congratulate yourself for figurin out what your priorities are, but now you need to know how to strike a balance to maintain said priorities among the diverse distractions of daily life. All the while being careful that you don’t misplace priorities, or heaven forbid, replace with wrong priorities! Really does seem quite the task to be constantly double-checking with yourself that if you died in the next minute, you could leave this world with a fulfilled heart… That while you may have things you could’ve done had you not died so inopportunely, at least there aren't things you won’t regret. Things you should’ve done when you had the chance in the present to change things. You end up questioning all the attention paid, "Well, is it actually worth all that stress, insecurity, and constant worry?"
Goddamn right, you bet it is.
So, I try often to think of what I’m missing in my life, what I should’ve paid more attention to, and to what actually matters. It’s tough being upfront with your own failures. Even tougher to be honest about your own shortcomings, but hey...easier said than done, right.
Right. Just like sometimes I think I have NO idea what the hell I'm talking about. Arrogant punk. Oprah's 53 and I can't even legally drink yet! Sooo, then what’s a girl to do when she ain’t got a flippin’ clue?
At the risk of sounding like a Nike commercial, I say, "Just do it!"
Do everything. Swiftly, with unforgiving style.
And, then. Well, then hope you don't get too fucked up.
“Life’s messy. You do what you can. Life is short. Pal, life is so short.” (Caro, Duchess Soaring Hawk)