6:18 p.m. | 2005-03-06
Does Anybody Really Care...
I like patterns. I like things that are logical. I take comfort in constancy.
I went to Boston for him. I went to see his shining face and sparkling eyes because he told me he couldn't live another day without seeing me. But he never called. He never loved. He had free time, me on the other line, and instead...he cleaned his keyboard. It's all just so frustrating because all these words come out in spite.
But it brings up a much bigger problem. I could live without them. People that I truly love...I would survive never seeing them again. Is this average? I know I avoid real emotional attachment for fear that it will leave and I know I purposefully make people feel like I love them, but am I really so shallow as to be able to be alone?
Is it so disillusioned of me to love the sounds and chords of life but hate the lyrics?
Is that really fair?
I've recently noticed something about myself. I was always content to be alone. I could entertain myself and in the opposite respect I'd re-organize my schedule just to be social.
But as of late...in fact, not as of late, it has been a long time coming; showing itself piece by piece. I used to be so upbeat and personable with my co-workers. I've lost the joy of seeing them and almost feel this air of disdain and elitism when I'm around.
And I'll leave my social obligations just so I won't feel awkward, to go home. I look forward to seeing my walls, my desk, my sink.
I think it's because everything in my life has had such a lack of control (because of my own actions and the need to give up some control in order to survive) as of late. It's that feeling that makes me, ever the control freak, clutch everything important close to me and refuse to let go, no matter what.
So in this place where I've forced myself into something new -- a life of no school, new jobs, and living at home again -- I'm doing the same thing I did when I moved to Boston and when I watch scary movies. I grit my teeth hard and hold onto everything I recognize, convincing even myself that I'm not scared. That it's no big deal. Eventually my jaw tires and my eyes droop and thing that are utterly too new begin to get to me and wear me out.
And I can already see my face starting to give in.
