So first of all, I found my diary from 2002 and read bits of it. It is extremely embarrassing. There were also a lot of things that I’d forgotten had happened. Those years weren’t super kind to me. But it’s funny… I could see my personality through those pages. It’s like nothing has changed, it’s like I’m the same person I was years ago. In some ways I suppose I am. My personality has always been fleeting, it’s all about “feel” and not about “think”, it’s about diving straight in with eyes closed and shrugging at the fact that things could go awry but then complaining loudly when they do. It ‘s about brushing off the things that hurt me most and not making a big deal about it, because I know it would hurt to truly pry, to re-examine events that had happened, to relive the pain.
I forgot about the boy like that. I had to force myself to forget. It’s funny when I say that, but I did. I would think of a memory and I would try to think of something else, willing time to fade those edges, to blur those mental images. I don’t remember too much now. I guess I would if I tried very hard. But I try not to. I remember snippets, I remember how certain things felt… like a hug, I remember the butterflies. But I don’t remember the voice very well, the days and nights when we would see each other blurred. It’s like it was all one incident. How lovely. How lovely to remember it like that.
I don’t know where life is taking me. I know I’m going somewhere. I am excited but also terrified. I get to go alone (a plus in my books) but it’s somewhere new (I like places that are quasi familiar, quasi new).
Huh. Well let’s move onto the boy. I’ve been thinking about it… not actively but I mean how can you really control your mind on these things? I think I’m impatient. I think I want to dive into something because it’s my personality. That it has been all heart and no mind, that I haven’t thought this through clearly, because to do so would mean that I would have to face the fact that this is temporary, that he will be gone in 10 months or so, that I will never be good enough to follow him along in his dreams, that I am a convenience. I still don’t know if I truly like him. I don’t know if it is the act of being chosen that makes me want to stay, or the fact that I am more scared that I am unwanted, that I will never be good enough, that there was someone else better than me, than I am enamoured with his personality. This was the test right? Feeling good enough. To feel worthy. To be thrown away eventually, but be able to pick yourself up. And I haven’t mastered that at all.
I am so scared of that. I scares the shit out of me. I don’t know why. It shouldn’t, really. It’s petty. People get their hearts broken all the time, but for a girl who has played it safe for so long, I don’t understand the concept of heartbreak, I don’t understand the concept of vulnerability, I don’t want to understand, I refuse to understand, I will go kicking and screaming before you shove that dogma down my throat.
I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I want long term. Not in a relationship, but in my life. I don’t know where it is heading. And I feel like in my gut, there is this catch. There is this catch that I will refuse to verbalize, because it is an omen…. but I feel like maybe I shouldn’t figure it out? That it would be futile to do so. But who knows? I can’t read the future, I think my intuition only kicks in super effectively when I’m in uncomfortable situations and can read body language and facial expressions like no other. I guess it’s easier to be on the outside than the inside, you know. Like when people say that those observing a game of chess could theoretically play the game better than the players, because they have less on the line, it’s not just about them, it’s not just you and another person and some chess pieces between the two of you. I guess that’s the way I’ve been my whole life: looking in from the outside. It’s helped me stay safe, I’ve never had to get hurt. I’ve just heard all my friends’ stories 10 times over about heartbreak, about betrayal, about fathers who left, boys who hit them, girls who backstabbed them… and I’ve always nodded because I couldn’t relate, I had played it safe, I was so relieved that I hadn’t been hurt.
And now I’m in this situation where I get to be vulnerability, I have this opportunity to feel it. I have this opportunity to lose, to fall, to fall hard on the ground, to fall so hard that it doesn’t take me 5 seconds to pick myself off the ground. And I am petrified. I have this opportunity to be the one in the poker game who gives it all away… and it should be a learning experience right? But I feel like being so guarded, being so protected means that I am now at an age that I should be used to it, that I should know how to play this game and know that getting hurt is all part of it and could happen. And I just refuse. And so now I am in this bind where I don’t know what I want, because I want to never break ever again but I want to know what it’s like to fall in love. I want to know what it’s like to have to work things out, to get in fights, to make concessions, to give in order to take, to compromise, to work with someone, to travel the world with someone instead of doing it all alone. Because at this point, I am completely fine with it. But I wonder how long thought will last. I wonder how long I can use that thought to cloud the true fear that I am feeling.