alone

Icing on Top of Life

I know the power of life.

It is a numb sensation of hands at your throat.

It is a smooth push at your back.

It is a wind that you cannot escape.

It is a slap of uncertainty.

It is a punch full of doubt.

It is a mystery.

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Confusing Happiness With Love?

I recently had an amazing experience with a guy. My first relationship ever. We had just gone on our third date together… and then he told me that he loved me…

Do I love him as much as he loves me? I repeated that I loved him back but I wonder if this is all going too fast… I have strong feelings for him, for sure, but I am wondering if I am just too insecure to tell him that I feel a little different.

I mean, I am the type that GROWS love for a person instead of just feel it right away.

I feel….

  • too inexperienced
  • too naive
  • too weak
  • too blind
  • too scared
  • too different
  • too worried
  • too scandalous
  • too confused
  • too nervous
  • too greedy
  • too selfish
  • too sensitive
  • too curious
  • too second-guessing
  • too horrible
  • too… loved… Is that a bad thing?

I am a wreck of emotions right now. I take time to think things over and I have thought it all over about what happened last night. What if we are different people hidden in a mask of googly-eyed love? He has already talked about marriage… I don’t want him proposing to me after a month… I need to take hold of the reigns here before it is too late…

-The Human Girl

 

P.S. What is it about me that makes him so into me? :/

Falling into the Crevasse

“The Hardest Rock In The World To Find…”

A weight has been lingering above me for a while now. The weight of comfort and mind-numbing stupidity. It seems to have gotten worse since I’ve moved back to California. I have no discernible skills. Even my smile is different somehow. Less frequent. I want and want and want. I assume and predict and plan… Nothing is working out. I am getting older and leaving less room for growth. It’s enough to talk the talk, but walking the walk is unbearable. Everything is unbearable. It has always been a chore to do anything. The way I see the world has set me back on multiple occasions. It’s like that feeling you get when you try something you have always had severe reservations about only find out that you really like it or are just starting to understand it. That is what I mean.

I’ve just learned a lot about myself… Most importantly, I am kind of a loner. I try to force myself not to be, but it just doesn’t work out. What happens to the loners who want to be social? Nothing good apparently. You just confuse yourself with trying to please and be likable with the basic elements of friendship. I wonder a lot about how I am supposed to act or empathize with different people. I can’t be someone I am not. The person I am is silent, crude and kind of a slob who cannot empathize without wanting to run away from the beginning of a sad story. That said, I am also a runner. Not so much literally so much as figuratively. I run away from my problems. I like to disappear without a trace. I don’t like people knowing where I am. It’s a closed off kind of world for me.

People learn about themselves around high school and college. They are explorers: they meet different people, try new things, have romantic relationships, aren’t so tired to do anything risky. In another life, I would have been one of these people. I know that I have the ability to be one of these normal people. Normal. Such a word I have been trying to achieve all my life. There is no normal. Only abnormal.

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.  From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked.  One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out.  I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose.  I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.  ~Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Chapter 7

One of the parts from Master of None that stuck with me was when Aziz Ansari’s character read this quote from Silvia Plath. Having read this book quite recently, I almost forgot that this is one of the major parts of Esther Greenwood’s life that I really felt like we had in common. Instead of figs, I just imagined getting older and mind-numbingly more stupid to be able to do the things I wanted.

So what are my paths? How do I find the “hardest rock?” (A metaphor for stability and success that I am trying to tie into this blog post. Is it working?) How do I go on from here? Do I just accept that mistakes cannot be avoided? Do I just accept that I cannot be the smartest person in class? Do I just accept that there is no way for someone I like to just look at me and ask me out? Do I just accept that there is no way to be religious and successful at the same time? Do I just accept that the weight will never come off easily? Do I just accept that people might not always be there for me? Do I just accept that there are many people who want to take advantage of me? Do I just accept that love is sometimes conditional and fleeting? Do I just accept that I might never have free time ever again if I decide to commit to something? Do I just accept that people are mostly shallow? Do I just accept that I have to be selfish and mean sometimes if I want to get the things that I want? Do I just accept that I might need to stay on medication for the rest of my life? Do I just accept that I never should be able to change my mind once I have committed to something? Do I just accept that I will never be a millionaire? Do I just accept that jealousy is inevitable even to the best of us? Do I just accept that the people I love will leave my life someday? Do I just accept that I will be alone in a world filled with people who are together? Do I just accept that accepting others can only be done once I accept myself? Do I just accept that I can never be pretty once I pass a certain stage in my life? Do I just accept that I can never say, “I’ll do it tomorrow?” Do I just accept that I can never blame my parents? Do I just accept that I might never get to travel the world? Do I just accept that people will just not like me for no reason? Do I just accept that there is nothing wrong with me? Do I just accept that I might not be able to do everything that I have always wanted to do?Do I just accept that I can never hide away from the pain of living life?

Yes.

Justifying things

It’s a special kind of place.

No insects or amphibians. No animals of any kind. No unnecessary dirt. No bad smells. No worries. No responsibilities. No physical or emotional pain. No starvation. No judgement. No love. No hope. No improvement. It is a lonely place, but not all of it is bad.

Bright, lazy sunlight. Great green trees. Gentle wind. Soft grass. An almost endless sparkling blue lake. Abundance of clouds in the sky. Adrift water lilies. A wooden boat access that extends out into the horizon. Mountains that cradle one side of the scene.

And one human in paradise.

Deja Vu

Familiar Winding Road

They were all around. Familiar beings. Familiar conversations. Familiar laughs. I didn’t know how else to act and speak other than how I was familiar. Why should I change? It works, doesn’t it? I sometimes wonder what I would have to do to change how they see me. What would it take for me to jump into their minds and see the real them? What would it take to have easy access to their fears, comforts and desires? How can I unlock their true opinions and queasy hearts? The surface. I will only ever scratch the surface no matter what shovel, excavator, or steel drill I use.

There are topics of discussion where I am quiet and don’t participate. Topics that don’t include me. Topics that might bring fuzzy memories, sadness or exclude me altogether. Topics that I have no control over. Topics that must be changed or I will pull out my hair and scream. I am done listening. I am finished with your dumb-ass ideas and childlike thinking. You border stupid and selfish right now. You only look away. I am still sitting here. I am still part of this group.

So I speak. I speak the only way I can in order to acquire attention from these people. These people who seem to have no deep emotional understanding whatsoever. I also scratch the surface. Tit-for-tat. I make fun of it. I make them laugh with silly jokes. I make them understand that I don’t speak their whispered language. I become bold and outgoing. I switch it on when I can, and this is one of the few moments when it is possible. Just for them. I still don’t feel like we can ever be more than how stupid my jokes are.

I can’t trust them. I can’t trust them because they don’t trust me. I only receive second-hand information anyway. Why am I even a part of this? What is the purpose of knowing someone for so long if they have never confided in you? Who had ever told you a secret that made yourself feel less alone in the world? Gossip doesn’t count. Gossip is surface. Gossip is deja vu.

But I know them better. I know them to have always been this way. I know that even though the surface is all it is, it might be a blessing in disguise. I don’t need to worry about them. I don’t need to wonder if I hurt their feelings. I don’t need to feel bad for too long if they annoyed or hurt me in such a way. They will always be there. And even though they will not always be there for me, I know people who will. It’s not a loss as much as I think it is, but it’s also not a win. Instead, it’s a silence that befalls me. A spectator to their spectacle. One day I will be a part of it. One day my past with them won’t dictate my future with them. One day we will all be close but in a different way. Our futures bonded by hope, admiration and depth of understanding of one another, instead of ancient past encounters. A part of me fears that it won’t ever happen, but I choose the optimistic path.

The World Beyond the Wooden Gate

She leaned against her backyard fence. She could hear the neighborhood kids laugh by on their bikes up and down the curvy street she lived on. Sometimes, she spied on them through the slits in the wooden fence. So happy with one another. Yelling, screaming and laughing as kids usually do. Her happy place was on the other side of the fence. Near the giant plastic garbage bins and air conditioning unit. There was also a giant, black satellite pole that stuck out of the ground near the door to the garage that she measured her height on as years went by. A couple of lines of green paint still there. She was almost the same size as she had started this tradition near her only and last growth spurt. It was only a sliver of concrete that she liked to stand along. She thought of her hopes, dreams, bad days and realities. Her imagination took her everywhere. One day she would recite presidential speeches on how the world could be better. The next day, she could look up to the sky and see herself being picked up by a steam punk zeppelin where she started adventures with her new crew of characters. Another time she would try singing into a tape recorder to see if her voice was as pretty as the words she sang. Other days were not so creative, but no less active. She would strap in her roller blades and turn around the satellite pole until she could spin the most times without being dizzy. She played handball by herself against the side wall until it was dark. And then there were times where she just sat and cried because she knew that no one could see or hear her. Bad days were rare, but they still happened. It was her space outside of her space. As far as she could get away from home while still being home. But when the children she didn’t know would pass by her space, she would always go quiet. She wanted to listen to them. Wonder what it was like to have freedom on the other side of that wooden gate. What it was like to interact with people who weren’t imaginary and set in her creation. She wondered what it had all meant for her. At any moment she knew that she could just open the latch and watch them play. She might ask if she could join them or perhaps look sad enough for them to ask her. (Although the latter never worked for her in ANY situation) She wished she could just watch them. Like a television show that was outside. People-watching. Her imagination grew more hungry for a real companion to her stories and lonely activities. Someone to console her or laugh with her. With a whole other world out there, perhaps just one person can come into hers.

Secret Spot

Introspection

What is the meaning of life?

What a dumb question. The meaning of life is being a good person by doing good things and making sure happiness for yourself and those around you is constant. Religion, philosophy, some ethics and extremists of any kind will try to add to this – a.k.a MY answer to the meaning of life. For all I know the book Angels and Demons by Dan Brown had answered it beautifully without answering it at all. We all get caught up in our own human drama and that it is not like we can’t learn a different way to love and accept one another. Anyway, search over. A new kind of search is selfish now. Less so about the entire human race, but about a single person. In the end, THE question doesn’t generalize itself, but becomes about what is the meaning of my life?

I am writing with a gas fireplace on and a blizzard going on outside. Visibility looks horrible. I can see my car outside collecting the first few inches of snow. I cringe at the thought that I have to brush it all off tomorrow. But… I asked for this. It wasn’t anywhere NEAR like this living in California. In my “Cold Anticipation” blog from a while ago, I discuss that I came here because I felt too hot in heart/mind and that the California sun only made me worse. That was true. But has moving here really made me feel any better? I love the cold and there are moments that I just want to walk right into that blizzard outside and stay there. But I hesitate. I hesitate to try it. I hesitate to open that door and see if I can handle it. After all, it is a dumb idea. So to answer my own question, no, I am not totally happy, but I feel a tiny bit more happy here. But my hesitation plays a role. The fact that I still carry California plates on my car is a big tell about how I am feeling. I feel as though I can move back at any moment. And according to many others in my circle, I SHOULD move back. My cousin asked me why I came to Colorado. He tells me that it was not his interest but mostly his mother’s interest. Why I had left my whole life behind to come to a different state and work a low paying job at a major retailer? Was it worry? Concern? He was the first to really be so interested without pushing that I get a better job/life plan. There are three reasons why I left California. Three reasons that make me feel depressed year-round. None of the reasons deal with work, or school, or money. I feel like no one will ever know all three. I don’t understand them myself. Were they good reasons? Maybe…

I do wish that I had someone to share this with. I wish I had someone to share my Colorado experience. Like it feels wasted on me that I do so little. I get tips all the time at work but I never get a chance to do them because I didn’t want to do it alone. Imagine showing up at a popular restaurant and getting a table for one. I see movies alone but I will not go out to eat alone. There is so much to do and see and I here I am huddling in my cave.

If my family is right about something, it is about finding another job. My current job made me unhappy today. Just out of the blue. Took me by surprise.

I freeze in this snowy blizzard. I will freeze in place and time…