by Fallen Leaves on November 24, 2014
I think there's something wrong with me.
On Friday, I went out with two of my guy friends, Allen & Beau. We got drunk and unruly. Beau tried to wingman me but nobody at the bar caught my eye. I guess I was fun for a while, but then went to what we call "The Dark Place". I forget that I'm in public and become unresponsive to my surroundings. I stare blankly and lose track of time, and people, and noise - all to get lost in the maze of sadness in my head. Allen and Beau made a game of this, in which they would keep me in the corner of their eye throughout the night. One would see my smile begin to falter, or see my eyes grow fuzzy and stare at nothing, and they would yell, "Allen! She's sad! Dude! Saaaaad!" and then they would become colourful jesters in front of me, flattering me with compliments and telling me jokes in hopes to bring me back to the present.
Much like two worried parents jangling keys in front of their toddler who can't stop crying.
This goes without saying, but I have some pretty great friends.
Later that night, we ran into a friend of ours. (Context: a couple of months ago I drunkely borrowed this guy's sweater. Jesse asked to have it back. About two weeks ago we met for coffee so I could return it and we hung out for nine hours instead. Ran into him a couple more times that week. He asked me for beers a couple of days ago and we drove around the city listening to Death Cab for Cutie. He showed me his favourite spot in the city... gorgeous old architecture, surprisingly quiet, a pretty view of the skyline reflecting off the river. We've had some good life talks. I'm fairly certain he's interested in me in one way or another but understands that I'm not in the place for that right now.) I must have talked to Jesse for quite a while that night but I can't recall details.
I remember being in a pizza parlor and being stupidly drunk. He put his hand on my knee for a while. I remember wanting to entangle my fingers in his but thinking, "No, Fallen, don't be drunk and dumb." When he was leaving at 3am, he asked me to come outside with him to say goodbye. I went. Good Guy Jesse went in for the hug and a brief word of encouragement, and asked to hang out sometime soon.
I woke up Saturday morning butt-naked and cuddling a dish towel.
I remembered drunkenly blurting out dark personal experiences to Jesse. I texted him with a basic, "Hey man, I realize I got really dark on you last night. Especially that one thing. Don't worry, you're not the first person I've told and I've dealt with it. Sorry if I made you feel weird." "Don't worry. It isn't a burden when I want to listen."
Last night, I met with some of my fellas again. We were out for supper and they gave me a serious talking-to. I guess I was lost to the world again, staring forward and running a million things through my head. They said, "Don't do this to yourself, Fallen. You're too smart for this and you know it. You've got so much going for you. There's more to you than a boyfriend or an ex-boyfriend. Fuck that guy, anyway."
Might I state again that I have wonderful friends?
Today I skipped my hockey game and laid in bed for three hours before I garnered the courage to go get food from the restaurant. I went to dodgeball. I did some homework in a cafe and then came home to lose myself in the realms of the Internet. My sister called me to make sure I was doing okay. I texted Adam, "So do me a big favour and bring my book to school sometime soon. Hand it to me or drop it off at the restaurant or whatever." He replied two hours later saying he would.
I think it wouldn't be as bad if I could forget the sound of his pretty singing voice. Or how hard he made me laugh by singing songs from Frozen.
Oh, and another fun fact: I met Lance on this very weekend, one whole year ago. He has a new girlfriend now, I'm told. I saw a picture and she is very pretty. Last time we talked, he scolded me for making poor decisions and coping with my feelings in an unhealthy manner. He said he was disappointed in me.
I think I'm still hungover from Friday night.
I did some quick reflection on what has changed in a year. Last November, I was so happy to be single. I had finally escaped the clutches of my emotionally-destructive high school relationship and was single in the land of opportunity (aka, a city where I didn't know anyone and I could be sure that nobody was my cousin). I was free to kiss whoever I wanted, or to stay in by myself, or to go out with new friends, or to do whatever the fuck I wanted. Liberating.
Then I met Lance. We clicked. I said I wasn't ready for anything serious. He said that was okay. I kissed some more boys. He said that was okay, too. I told him I wanted to be friends. He said that was fine. Then we would go to hang out and I would get confused and end up kissing him, and he would smirk and say, "It's neat how you say one thing and do the opposite." Then, of course, the rest of that is history.
My one friend says I need to spend one whole year as a truly single human being. I said, "I put in six months of purgatory between Lance and Adam." He said, "Now you have had Adam, so you have a year to kill." I said, "I get a couple lousy weeks of not being single and I have to wait another year?!"
My main group of friends say I worry too much about relationships.
They're right. It's a compulsion and an obsession and I can't ever remember not being boy-crazy. If I didn't have a crush on someone then I had an infatuation with a band member. My very username is an ode to Billy Talent, the band that had my heart for years. A band I originally came to like because the boy I had a crush on liked them.
See a theme?
The scattered sense of this entire entry just shows where I'm at emotionally. Really, I'm writing this to extinguish my burning desire to text Adam furiously right now ("Things you don't do: jump into a relationship with an up-front emotionally vulnerable human being, reassure her endlessly that she's not a rebound and that you're ready, then break up with her because you're not ready, then never talk to her again. Your ears are uneven and I want to punch you in the penis but I also want to come to your acoustic set and hug you afterwards and meet your friends.").
This goes without saying but the idea of therapy is increasingly appealing because I'm clearly not doing well and it's starting to scare me
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