I am, yet again, single in the most unadulterated sense... And I have to learn to be okay this way. There was this guy that I had been in a very complicated, ambiguous, undefined relationship with since the beginning of last year. We both knew it wouldn't work, but went with the flow anyway...
And only now did I insist we stay strictly as friends. I think it's a good thing to try force myself out of what I think was me desperately crawling back into the comfort zone of being in a relationship. Now I understand why he had doubts of my intentions. He probably thought being with him stood for something... That it was security and affection and an ideation that I couldn't sever myself from.
I really loved him for who he was, is; and I still do, as a friend. Being his friend is wicked awesome though.
This sounds a little familiar doesn't it? Last year, He promised me his undying love and friendship, and sibling status when we broke up. When he found out I started seeing other people, it all went downhill and we never recovered (I'm determined to remedy this in the future).
I just hope that my newly concluded "relationship" turns into something pleasant, rewarding, and not self-destructive. I do not want the past mistakes in my tumultuous history to repeat themselves with every damn guy I meet. Cheers to me taking it upon myself to learn to be self sufficient, not clingy, and not dependent on the dream that someday the perfect Prince Charming will redeem all these failures and flings.
The guy and I talked. It was a pretty pathetic scene with me choking on tears, sniffling, and going through a spectrum of mumbles to bellows. I sounded like someone DYING from disillusionment! Note: This is not accurate. This is from memory, and my memory (like that of Stephane Miroux from The Science Of Sleep) is not entirely reliable.
"How come I am so fucking different? That I believe in love everlasting? That when I love someone, I love that person forever when the truth is that love comes and goes and people fall out of love all the time? If that is the reality, what am I supposed to do when I fall in love with someone again? If there's such a big possibility of anyone ending, what am I supposed to do!?" - I imagined a scenario where I laugh at the face of a possible new partner and say goodbye because of fear of futility.
"Just enjoy it", he said. It immediately brought me back to a scene from The Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind.
I was so fucking dejected that it seemed to spill out onto other aspects of my life. Before I knew it, I was going on and on about how inside I KNEW that I would never fulfill my ambitions of being a brilliant and successful artist. I didn't have the skill and strength in me; I felt like giving it all up. I was on the verge of turning my back on the whole notion of med-school. I felt like becoming a bum, living on the comfort that being high on everything that brings me satisfaction, eating and sleeping all day, and having fun once in a while to prolong any suicidal attempts.
And then it all went away.
One moment it was all over for me.
The next, everything normalized. It's like I'm schizophrenic or something. First, my belief system is so romantic and all that surrounds me is just beautiful. The next second, it all disintegrates and there's no point in anything.
What the fuck.
"I've learned that I can't help you, stan. There's nothing I can do or say to lift your spirits at all. It's your body that just decides when to make you feel better."
IT'S TRUE, IT'S TRUE. As I now type, despite the aching uncertainty of the limitations of my artistic progress, prowess, and ability... I am inspired to sing.
"ALL THE WORK, SACRIFICES, AND EMOTIONAL AGONY I'M GOING TO GO THROUGH TO TRY GET TO MY GOALS... WILL THEY EVEN BE WORTH IT? ARE MY AMBITIONS EVEN WORTH IT?!" - I almost screamed. Again, I imagined a scenario in which I was some crappy artist making no money, gaining no satisfaction, and acquiring no intelligent fan base.
"I think being a singer is a worthy ambition."
He said.
And that struck me.
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