I should be asleep. In fact, I was so tired, I fell asleep in the mixture of pillows and blankets while talking to J. about the art of the Middle East debate and the plausibility that Catholicism and Judaism both have it incorrect. The subject of us came up. I was in my pajamas, leg intertwined with blanket and closing my eyes- listening at each word. It’s a great story, him and I- how we met, how he said he fell in love with me and our ultimate demise. The ones that always say they fell in love with you the moment they saw you? Are the brilliantly crazy- those without censor and almost-always- the ones that have no idea.. almost.
We met because he was driving a bus, (he’ll tell you he was wearing large sunglasses- but I remember the day. It was a soft snow, and I was taking the bus back to the transit station before the move with Breon, or Josh- and I was brilliantly unaware, but lonely. He smiled at me as he stopped the bus and slowed down. He waved and I actually looked behind me. Months went by- I never saw him again. A year went by and I found him driving my bus from where I now live to work. I didn’t know what to say- but we bonded instantly over tales of crazy ex’s and the demise of my dream house on Serenity Circle. I harbored more resentment then- and he and I began getting the girls together and we would talk while they played. He’s the constant performer, I knew that from the start. If he’s not soliciting a reaction? He dooms it as a failure. If he’s not somehow-center-stage? He’s weakening. How a world-reknown-performer ever drove my bus- I’ll never know. Tonight, we had a discussion, and I’m not sure if it’s the ending of something, or the beginning of something else. I was able to practice my adult conversation techniques as our talk became more heated, but in true form- the friends that we are- we never raised our voices, or demeaned. He held my hand when he blamed a character flaw, and I looked down when I told him he was entirely too “self-serving.” We smiled and he promised to let me know he got home alright. I had information to digest and so had he.
I used to wear my heart on a logo tshirt. I placed it on my back pocket to make sure someone could see it coming and going. Lately, it seems, I just don’t bother with much of it, and I find myself as almost a quiet observer. The more I take in- the more I understand. The more I understand? Means that failed engagement #293 is most certainly, being erased from future history. I’ve been dating and enjoying and talking with people from all paths of their life. The common ground of a broken heart has helped us all adapt to understanding someone new- and luckily for most of us, with our dreams dashed and our minds mellower- we’ve learned to be more accepting, and ultimately- more open to whomever we may meet.
In the beginning, after a break-up- it doesn’t matter how many people you meet, or the amazing dates you have. One picture, can bring you back to the land of the lost- someone walking into a movie premier and flashing a rock sign can make you skip Beyonce’s ‘Independent Woman Part 1,” and switch over to DeathCab for Cutie- out of pure spite for your own insides. I think that remains for a while, (about 10 minutes on my watch.) It takes a heavy reminder to bring you back to where you’ve struggled to be. And ultimately, before you know it- you’re back on Beyonce and the sad lyrics are a distant memory. It’s not that you don’t care anymore- it’s simply that you care more about other things. You know you’re going to be alright when your lips touch someone else’s and like a thirst occurs where you didn’t even realize you were parched. The right kiss and outlook- can change anything.
It’s strange how I’ve become man-like in my dating escapades. No one stays over. (Which, coming from the girl who in pure terror used to call people at 3am, is a miraculous thing, indeed.) They come, they go. Even friends who normally, (after watching movies until 3am,) crashed leave me to my own silence. I’ve learned to find comfort in a leg draped over the entirety of the bed, or not being jabbed at 6am. I miss the little things- a breath in my ear, or the smile when you’re still groggy and forget to cover your morning breath. But it’s not missed enough to fix. Suddenly- someone entirely worthy of ‘sleeping over’ is going to have to prove themselves. It’s like I’ve grown a penis and less manners, or more morale. It’s really freaking me out.
Our little discussion tonight ended with him telling me that I need to tell him my stories like I write about them on here. In all reality- I did used to have stories- but lately? I’m absolutely content in the boringness that is my existence. It’ll change- because really- I know myself- but for now? Healthy is not drama. I dig that. I have the emotional capacity to blog about other things- and I don’t find myself too drained to take on emotions about the news. I guess you could say- I’ve stopped wanting to be wanted. I want me- and in fleeting moments like tonight when the bed doesn’t feel empty and the noises seem too distant to bother me- I know I’m finding the other pieces of me I never bothered to give the time to sacrifice for. Everyone wants you when you’re content with not wanting anyone. That’s how life works. The other part I explained to him was one of knowing that no story could measure up to the ending he had already found in his mind. He’s the dad in Big Fish- the eternal yarn spinner- and me? The sun- who longs for the truth behind the well-orchestrated lines.
Every moment seems to me- to be the last of it’s kind. I feel lonely in spurts, empowered in others, but at least I’m getting to the point where I can recognize my own vulnerability in it all. It’s entirely freeing to realize our own humanity- changing minds or peace then confusion. Because I know- my greatest fear lies in not letting myself experience what I want- before my time runs out. If tomorrow was the last day- would I be saddest that I didn’t get married, or that I didn’t write this- knowing another fragment of what I was about? I value my time more- and am finding it more and more necessary to write more- to lead by example more and to finish my one year- alone. (I told myself when I left Josh that I would go an entire year without a serious relationship.) I think this year- ultimately what I’ve found- is my own frailty. There’s such a difference to understanding your own weaknesses, and letting them become you. I often thought when living with Josh- should he go away for any extended amount of time? How could I handle that house myself? The ways in which I heard the house move, or my thoughts of someone creeping in always were enough to scare me into believing I could not manage on my own. This house – far spookier, (though with blissfully thin walls that are as annoying and safe as they make me feel,) has dislodged all notions from my body. I don’t fight myself in the silence anymore, or any over-active imagination that occurs. My frailty- or weaknesses tell me that I can control the inside of myself- my feelings, but not outside of these walls.
Amongst the vending machines and year-old magazines
In a place where we only say goodbye
It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend
On a faulty camera in our minds
-DCFC (One last time.) 
