Getting these words for this post really began in the twilight dawn of a vertical hang over that strictly forbade me sleep for a solid good two hours. I suppose I was so out of it that even having dreamed of a freaky ghost story did not sober me up as it would usually.
It’s a stupid thing to get drunk at the bar and not handle your liquor too well. Before this year I have never understood what it is about alcohol that drew people to them. I saw it as an escapism, I judged people who could not speak their mind without some liquid courage. I believed in owning your words with a clear conscious and whatever may be from them may be. Except I didn’t do that last night. I spent those long dawn hours thinking of what I could have done instead and what to do here on out. To be clear guys, I fucked up.
I realized a few things from waking up to watch the Mindy Project on my phone (yes, I needed a pick me up) – that it wasn’t the concept of losing somebody that scares me, it was the concept of not having fulfilled this sense of fullness in my life that I have most likely imposed on myself. Perhaps it doesn’t make much sense from the get go. Many people remind me that I am young and that it takes time to grow into ourselves. They look at how far I’ve come in my living situation to my work front and my friends that I am doing well for myself. Maybe this is the part of me that wants more than that – it’s just that I’ve been single-handedly spearheading to find my own place and do the very things that people did not believe I could do, it gets a little lonely. No, I am not alone. I spent the morning talking to the very two friends who had to witness me throw up from a cab and pay the driver double the amount for me to get home safely. To be fair to their wasted money, I threw up in the cab too. Classy. I am not alone, but the feeling of loneliness is something different.
This isn’t really the part that I fucked up on though. You see, I’m probably just running around in circles again. Things made so much more sense in my semi-conscious mind while I was up in the vertical. What had I wanted to say was that I let my demon out again, and with her, alcohol just makes her tongue that much sharper. It wrecks all filters that I would otherwise put up and rationality to even put effort into stopping myself from blaming the person I am seeing. People ask me if I am happy, my mother particularly is concerned to be sure I am happy with this person. I feel I am happy, though I feel that I don’t allow myself to be happy.
To paraphrase this as I had to with my friends: when someone gifts you a beautifully aesthetic ceramic art piece, it’s brightly glazed and smoothly hardened. When you glance at the beautiful craftsmanship and the delicacy of care put into it’s design, the artist then tells you of its resiliency too, which is suppose to add to its value. And just because it is so beautiful and because they say it won’t break, what do you do but to drop it and see for yourself. Perhaps the first time it won’t. Doesn’t even hold a scratch. Then the second time it doesn’t either. But then the third puts a crack, or a dent, or an imprint of your crazy anxiety and the fourth may just rip it all apart.
Now I may be melodramatic, because this man has proven to me throughout all the times I have had my freak outs that it has never touched him the same way morality wrecks me. Things supposedly slide from his plate from today onto the next day; a clean slate. In the same way that I am grateful for this easygoing attitude in life, I can’t help but defeat myself in matters which concern my trust towards himself in relation to me. I sit there and wonder where it is that I have gone wrong, where it was that made me so anxiety driven to start conjuring up nonsense in my head again. Aren’t there suppose to be any warning signs to tell you that you have gone off the rails again and that this is all in your head? How do you stop hurting somebody else to hurt yourself?
My girlfriend tells me that maybe I should just be single for awhile. My guy friend asked me something I could not answer but want to know about : So, why do you think you keep breaking it?
I suppose I don’t understand the concept of kindness. Nor do I see myself in the warmth of trust and dependency. It’s not that I don’t want to, but it would appear in these recent cases my body literally and mentally revolts against it altogether. Of course I would love to have a partner to trust and confide in. In all honestly, neither ends scare me that much to think that he would leave me. After having been hit on on multiple occasions by guys in non-drunken states (to declare formally), at the very least for now, my sense of erotic validity is confirmed. Leave that as it may. I suppose it isn’t a big deal in the long run of things, I mean that’s why I’ve always told myself I was in the scene for – the long run – anything else was a waste of my time and money. Yet I can’t seem to keep my shit together if we don’t see each other in a week, or bring myself to feel that I haven’t taken away from any of his happiness in taking his time. And as all of these things whirl wind together in my head, to make it go away all that I have to confess is that I have been very happy with this person, and he has been kind to me, and for whatever the turn out this time, I have been happy. That’s the catch though, it’s only not scary when you don’t believe there is hope at hand and you simply let things fall as they may. What of when you’re in the middle of battling for things and you want to win? Fuck if I know.
He did keep his words from last night though, he texted me goodnight though he hung up on me earlier that evening. All I thought about as I stumbled out of my drunken steaming shower was that I was thankful he kept that part of my trust. Brittle as it may be.