Why Am I Like This?
Guys, I had to close this chapter in my autobiography that I really didn’t want to ever have to close. But now I understand closure. So there’s that. I won something.
I think closure means you reach a point of accepting something’s not meant to be, but also that it’s not the end of the world… it’s just the end of that thing.
I was crazy about him. I listened to the entirety of Maroon Five’s Hands All Over on repeat and cried in bed for him. Like wailed, and sobbed, until I was coughing and couldn’t breathe and had to sleep it off.
I do this to myself. I LOVE this shit.
If I’m not going to fall apart and go crazy for you, or get high off the idea of us then I don’t even want to talk to you or know you. If you can’t ignite my imagination what’s the point? And also, if you don’t reject me a little then where’s the challenge, the tension?
I need the romance of conflict. I need there to be something to over come. I can handle a little rejection, but there’s got to be a pay off. There’s got to be the possibility. There’s got to be some glory for whatever it is you do to me. At some point you have to give up the goods that I’m in it for.
I was so destroyed over him in 2011 I told myself I’d better never ever feel anything for anyone again. Naturally, I was being dramatic and I needed to be that way because it’s my thing.
But you know, years go by and you spend them screwing randos and indulging in things you know will never get off the ground because you have time to kill and you still don’t really understand how it is two people decided to come together this way and only ever touch each other, and love each other, and what does love mean because sometimes we all have to say we’re sorry, you know?
And I sort of figured you know if something sticks it’ll stick, and I chased a few wack-a-doodles, and I romanticized a few losers. And then I cut back on banging randos because I was laying some real questionable characters and I decided I could be more selective. But then I got rejected real good by one I really liked, and then another one flaked out like a toaster strudel…
Anyway. we eventually found our ways back to one another and dreamer that I am I really wanted to believe it was a sign. Because you don’t wander back into the orbit of a person like me unless you want to be involved in these romantic dramatics and my brand of day dreaming.
At some point we all have to acknowledge that I’m a certain way. It’s not a secret, I don’t hide it, there is no bait and switch here. And I think that’s probably what draws people to me – friends or lovers. I exist in the realm of possibility. I really think that if we try just a little and push at the right times and stick the fucking course that we could probably do just about anything we wanted.
It’s hard. The world is unforgiving, and not kind. And I lose my steam often. But I still believe and I’m pretty sure that’s the attraction. So if you’re coming to this party you’ve made a choice to drink the fucking punch.
If I’m into you, for whatever period of time, you know exactly what’s up. No one is saying we need to get married or have babies because I still don’t comprehend monogamy, and I’m not keen on enduring major changes to a body I still only barely manage to keep together.
Point here is he knew what time it was. I didn’t though.
I thought maybe this time he wouldn’t jump. I thought maybe he’d let me in this time, like for real let me in. There’s so much more to it and I should have honestly known better. I should have tread lighter. I shouldn’t have put my heart out there. I shouldn’t have put my head on his chest when I slept over. I should have absolutely definitely never quoted Maroon 5 when I said “it was always you.”
But if I start becoming cautious and closed off then I’ll lose something important. I’ll lose the part of me that is magic. Like magic doesn’t have to be real. And maybe gods don’t exist, and maybe there’s nothing after we die. But holy fuck if I don’t believe in the possibility that I’ll fall into a magical rainbow unicorn love one day which will also be low-key torturous in terms of desire and waiting and misunderstanding each other, but still ultimately fulfilling in the way that night time soaps are – if I don’t believe in that then honestly what’s the point of life?
I’m not here to just sit around eating fettuccine alfredo, blasting kings of leon and smoking marlboro reds until one day my ticker quits. Life is long when your brain spins like mine. I have to fill it with romance. I’m alive to love and live for the story and I can only ever exist in that reality.
So I’ve got closure. He’s out. He’s never coming back. I’m never going back. He’s not going to give me the kind of full on dive to the bottom of the ocean, get in a rocket ship and climb mount olympus type of love I need. And I’m simply not going to accept anything less. Ever.
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