Dizzy Up the Girl
Wow. Just wow. I haven’t blogged in a couple of days. I hear that that is a cardinal sin in the world of dorks like me who sit in front of their computer and write out their most intimate/useless/trivial thoughts. Apparently to garner a relatively steady base of readers one must strive for postin’ something every.single.day, which honestly, is typically a piece of cake for me. I’m full of opinions and stupid ideas about just about everything. Actually, scratch that–I amend the aforementioned sentiment to include absolutely everything. Not just about. Everything. Yeah, I’m that kid.
So, anyways, life has been slightly chaotic since Tuesday. In fact, everything has shifted quite a bit since then–without me ever actually feeling any sort of transformation at all. Sometimes change happens with little warning–the wind alters its directional path and you are left with no option but to be blown away with it. You just grab whatever is closest to you and hold on for dear life. Waiting for the dust to settle.
Maybe I have been granted glimpses of foresight in the past couple of week–perhaps I should have seen all of this coming at me like a freight train the way it indubitably has. But, it is typical of me to refuse to accept anything as a fact until I’m finally staring down the barrel of a gun–until I have no other choice but to believe.
And that is where I am now.
I’m still confused as fuck. Don’t get me wrong. Please. I just wouldn’t be, uh, me if I had any clue what was ever going on in my day-to-day life. That would just be too redonkulous to ever be a consistent reality. I’ve come to terms with that, acceptance and such, but I do think that some situations that have previously muddled my clarity, clouded my logic, and completely blinded my rationale have, for the most part, cleared themselves up.
Oh yeah, but as a side effect life fucked me over. Did I mention that part?
Well, yeah. That happened too. I may be “happy,” but I think that my happiness might be (is definitely) a side effect of my insanity. Insanity that occurs as a side-effect of sappy girly smitten-ish disgusting humiliating uncontrollable sunshine, lollipops and rainbows (lots of rainbows, really) kinda crush–and finally having a little bit of luck come my way. Unrequited love has been plaguing my existence since July and, well, persistence and patience kind of sort of might have maybe actually perhaps possibly paid off. I gave up long ago on anything ever coming of this obscenely disgusting crush on this obscenely cute girl ever developing into anything more than pure innocent daydream material.
I was fully prepared for the nice guy to finish last, ya know? These tired phrases might be cliche, but hell if they aren’t true. I’m not always nice. I’m a nice person, but I’m also the not-so-proud owner of a one-track mind. I oftentimes harbor a truly myopic narrow view of the world in which I technically live in. I don’t notice things outside of my direct line of vision. I become so entirely focused on what I want, on what I see right in front of me, on what is going to make me happy right then. right now, that I sometimes end up being not so nice to others. It’s indirect, but apparently hurts twice as much. You’d have to ask everyone who believes that I have fucked them over if that’s the case or not. I’m just capable of judging by reactions that appear to be indisputable such as: “Fuck you. I fucking hate you. I never want to see you again.” Or “You hurt me, Sunny.” Stuff I can not exactly debate or refute.
But, all I can say in my defense is that I do the best I can to be a good person. I never have any malicious intentions, however…despite all of that… I do mess up. I mess up all the time. I find myself in situations where I am constantly surrounded by trouble. I am my own worst enemy and I’m always pulled and directed by my heart rather than my brain–which, well, errrrrr, can lead to some shitastic potentially devastating scenarios. Trust.Me. It seems that even if I lived on a desert island I would never experience a shortage of dramarama. I’d undoubtedly conjure up copious amounts of pain and suffering merely by existing. It’s an amazingly useless skill, I can promise you that.
But, it is what it is, ya know? I can only change so much about myself until I cease being me and start becoming someone else. I don’t want to change, I just want to grow. I want to mature, develop and morph into a better version of who I already am. I’ve always experienced pressure to alter myself in one way or another–a nip here, a tuck there, a pinch here, a pull there. It’s been what I have endured constantly for the past five or six years. Everyone always wants to control the direction in which I twist and turn my little body. And I listen to each bit of advice that someone I respect enough has to offer–because really who am I to reject sound counseling? I am by anyone’s definition… a fuck up. I appreciate help. I do. I can welcome criticism to an extent as long as it is justified and I truly do internalize all concerns voiced in reference to my actions.
However, insisting or even expecting me to turn on and off switches in my head or to completely go against my own instincts or beliefs–is insane. And to be perfectly blunt–it’s actually kinda sorta really absolutely irrefutibly bitchtastic. I have no need for that kind of influence in my life. I am always trying to do the best I can. What the fuck else do people want from me? I’m twenty-three…I’m not even close to becoming the individual I am going to eventually become. I know this. Let me make my own mistakes. Let me trip and fall. I’m not afraid. I’m actually completely confident in where I’m heading and the pace in which I find myself sauntering along.
I’m good, not great.
A great person would not ever break someone else’s heart…A great person would not allow personal feelings to overshadow morality or skew an opinion on right and wrong. A great person wouldn’t cheat on their girlfriend. A great person would be stronger than that. A great person would never choose a girl over a friend. They wouldn’t do that.
But, me, a good person by almost all definitions–I have done those things. I have committed actions that I would view as unforgivable in any other circumstance. I can’t explain it. I can’t defend myself other than to say I’m doing what I feel is right in my heart. I trust my gut. I don’t know why. But, I can say that it’s never steered me wrong before. I wholeheartedly believe that despite how painful things are right now–everyone affected will come out stronger and more happy than before. I just think it’s the right move–the right thing to do–it’s just very difficult to see that far ahead right now.
Some people have a tremendous ability to see the big picture. They can peer far into the distance and steadfastly gaze upon the future. and accept it They can quickly swim through the tainted waters and stumble upon dry land in no time. They escape unscathed. Glass half full.
However, it is a difficult skill to acquire. No doubt about that. It’s much easier to concentrate on what is RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF YOU. Seeing red. Glass half empty. I hesitate to say pessimistic. But, yeah. Pessimistic. Those who hold grudges. Those who can’t get over themselves, over their pride, and over past mistakes in order to achieve happiness and contentment. Life is too short, I say. But, I cannot and will not speak for everyone.
We all deal with tragedies in the way that makes it easiest for us to survive and keep existing and thriving. I believe we only get a certain number of chances to break our heart before it can never be pieced back together. No, we won’t die from this affliction, but we will grow so jaded… so fearful of the end at the beginning that our ability to love and enjoy life will be gone forever. And then what do we have to get up for every morning? If we don’t have love then what do we have? A fucking 9-5 shit job? Bills? Responsibilities? And for fucking what!?
If I don’t have love, then I don’t want to live. I need that to look forward to. It is how I find the strength to make my lungs take each and every breath. It’s how I keep my heart beating. How I keep waking up each morning from what would otherwise be eternal slumber.
So, I fall into the first category–but, I’m special. I am one of those rarities… a pessimistic realistic optimist. Yeah, I’m that much of an idiot. I defy gravity all the damn time. I expect the worst to happen. I do. But, I also choose to believe the pretty words people whisper in my ear. Maybe deep down I think it to be a bunch of fleeting lust and promises that will be left unfulfilled, but I’m growing to allow myself to experience happiness until it runs dry. Because you never know…it might never stop existing… you just don’t know.
I’m adapting to my environment. I’m learning that I can stop the paranoia in its tracks. It’s the only way to beat misery and depression at its own game. I’m learning to beat the system. Enjoying every moment of every day until it stops being good and starts sucking–and then, and then I will just look forward to it being good again because it will happen. And now I know that. I might be emo, but I’m not a teenage goth kid ya know? I’m smarter than that. I’m so much smarter than that.
I know how great it can be. I’ve felt it. Relationships can suck. Dating can suck. People can suck. Friendships can be so hard you think they aren’t worth it sometimes. But, when they are you just know it. It’s hard to explain something that has previously been completely and utterly inexplicable. You don’t know what you have until you experience it and then lose it. You just don’t know. Love and loss, man. It’s just part of this shit we have to deal with. And I fucking hate it, but at the same time I know it’s important. It helps me to grow. It helps me to feel.
I’m happy to admit that at twenty-three…two months from turning twenty-four I have been fortunate to have loved and been loved. I fell for a fascinating woman a year and a half ago and adored and respected her more than anyone else ever will. She forced me to grow. She pulled out a part of me that I never knew existed. And she will always be my first and most important love. My best friend. Saying goodbye to what we had is and will continue to be one of the most trying periods of my life. It all feels extremely surreal and dreamlike. As if I’m going to wake up at any time and find myself comforted by her arms, snuggled up in her red down comforter, watching our favorite episode of the Office together. But, this time that’s not going to happen. It’s nothing if not tragic. However, I do oddly put a lot of faith in fate. It is what it was meant to be. We learned what we needed to from each other and unfortunately (most unfortunately) we dragged out something until we damaged it beyond repair. We fucked it up with pipe dreams of an unrealistic future. But, acceptance is key here.
My first real breakup.
There were a lot of firsts this year. Not all great. But, some so amazing I can never even fathom finding words to describe the impact or the significance they have had upon me. I get misty eyed thinking about everything I’ve been through. While from the outside looking in one might think I’ve done nothing but stagnate and that no progress was made…that I’ve gone backwards or that the hamster wheel just keeps spinning on spinning–dizzying myself and those around me. The lights whirring by. Eyes unable to focus for more than a moment. The world passing us all by. But, everyone’s wrong. I’m not always going to say that I’m right because of some inexplicable sense of pride. I’m not prideful. Not in the very least, actually.
But, I am right this time. I have grown. If you can’t see it you aren’t looking hard enough. Or else you just see me as a mirror does–a reflection of superficiality. You have to squint a little–peer harder into my soul, look into my heart and if you don’t get it then then what the fuck are you doing reading this blog? I change a little bit every day. Today I changed a lot. I’m risking a lot. I’m leaping into thin air with nothing but a hope and a promise to break my fall.
It’s the right choice. I may end up broken. I may end up lying bloodied and destroyed beyond recognition at the bottom of a canyon, but it would have been worth it. Fuck conformity. Screw those who tell me to look before I leap, those who pressure me to play it safe, those who steer me away from what I have set my sights upon. Guiding me away from happiness. My good friend Rachel just got a tattoo on her arm reading “Anything worth doing is worth getting hurt for.” Damn straight. I’m learning this every day. Yeah, it’s worth it.
I will continue to walk alone inside my head, but this time will have a hand to hold onto. And how can that ever be wrong?
Brick by brick. Step by step.