So, it's kind of a funny thing. If I learn that anyone I know wants to be my more-than-friend, I always assume that they're wrong. There was a miscalculation somewhere and there was an undue firing of neurons. They don't really feel that. It's an obvious mistake; one that will be remedied when I remind said person of my chronic craziness and also that I can never manage to keep my room clean, nor cook anything that requires heat. Being in love with me is like believing in the Tooth Fairy, I think. It's fun, but it's never real. After some digging (not even that much digging, really), the truth of the situation becomes clear. And after a while, you barely remember what it was like to believe. Silly Tooth Fairy. You don't exist. Silly boy. The girl you were in love with doesn't exist.
That this sounds like some self deprecating attempt to fish for affirmation that my theory isn't true has not escaped me. I know it seems that way. It's not, though. Really. I don't see it as cynicism...more like realism. Idealism, even, as I don't like pedestals much and am often more than ready for the crash when it finally happens. The crash makes me happy. It's like decompression. Pressure: Off.
But then something backwards happens. Every time. I'm the one falling from a height I never signed up for, looking right at the hard ground I'm getting ready to hit, and I see that the person who built that pedestal is angry. Seething, even. As if I meant to fall off. As if I climbed up there of my own accord and decided to tell the whole thing to go to hell and leapt to my doom as a normal, flawed, ground-level girl. It's like getting mad at your toddler when she falls off a two wheeler. Why was she there in the first place? She just learned to walk, for crying out loud. She has no hope of even reaching the pedals.
This is the phenomenon I am upset with right at the moment. Without mention of names or identifying specifics, this is eating at my brain. What do I do about it? Write, obviously. What does anybody do in this situation? When love turns to hate. When self preservation turns into poison. When someone you adore and who used to adore you has decided that the two of you can't be in the same room. With no warning and no eye contact and loads of awkwardness that no one else can see. At what point is the all or nothing part decided and why didn't I get a say?
I feel like I got fired for not wanting a promotion. "You're an awesome employee. Our favorite. We would love it if you were at work all day every day. Wanna be manager?" "No, but thanks for the compliment. To be honest, I've tried management. I totally suck at it. You should hear the stories. I will last much, much longer as a regular employee. Let's stick with what works, here." "Go to hell, awesome employee. Pack. Your. Things."
I generally write these things and come to some sort of an answer by the end of it. I don't have an answer for this. I usually get somewhere with writing. It helps me sort through things. It's not helping with this one and I'm beginning to think that I just need to vent. There doesn't seem to be a good answer or a solution. The only thing I can think to do is be mad as hell and miss my friend.
Maybe I should just get a warning label tattooed on my forehead: "Use only as directed. Prolonged exposure not recommended. Side effects include but are not limited to: Frustration, potentially severe loss of reason and lasting feelings of resentment. BEWARE! MISUSE CAN LEAD TO SERIOUS HEART-SHAPED INJURY AND IRREVERSIBLE DAMAGE TO OTHERWISE WONDERFUL FRIENDSHIPS."
Think that would do the trick?
1 comment:
I think I just spent an hour drive in the middle of the night listening to Sigur Ros, letting my mind decide the meaning of their made-up language... and this is something like what I heard tonight. I felt that I can't be sure what someone else's definition of 'love' is and how they seem so sure of it. I felt that I'm good at philia, excellent at eros, and completely lost with agape. It's so very variable, and I'm so lost. Eros fades and interest wanes and we never hold each other's interest very long. I feel like the connection that everyone is seeking is a pipe dream - wanting to own that feeling that they only know from the movies. They only feel it when they're in pain, and it doesn't take but a hint of rejection to set off the pain of a thousand knives in the heart of someone that thinks they're in love. It's wicked like that.
So... I feel adrift. Unsure where this boat takes me. Unsure what direction I'm going. I just know it's nice to wake up next to a smiling face, and that seems to transcend the idea of any form of Greek love, logic, or sensibility whatsoever. I remain lost, I've only gained a numbness to the cold and a cautious lack of enthusiasm for jumping head-first into the water.
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