Stating the Obvious
Love is giving someone the power to hurt you terribly
…And hoping they don’t.
And we never trust anyone as easily as we did the first time.
Some quotes are better left unquoted, and yet it is so hard to allow self-pity to go ignored. Self-pity is a meta-feeling. After a while you feel bad because you feel bad, something, in turn, reminds me of my ex. So what you get is a three, possibly four-dimensional vicious circle that cuts on all 17 edges, despite that being a prime number. And it cuts deep.
So yeah, I’m starting to see the humor in it. But that was never a problem, for me. Cynism does not exclude self-ridiculisation, in fact they go hand in hand. As long as you don’t actually believe what you are saying, or you will soon sound like a fat girl telling you with a serious face that she is fat. And don’t you dare agree, or they will cry because now they think they are fat.
I had a very insightful discussion with a friend the other day, who claims that you should get used to being single before you get into a relationship, or you will cling on to someone for all the wrong reasons. And though I disagreed like I always do, she had a very good point. I for one, am still hoping for anyone to declare their love for me just to feed my ego, because I can’t do it on my own. Like I said, it’s very hard not to believe that you are worthless, if there is no one around saying that you aren’t. Maybe that’s a personal problem, which I had assumed was generally true for everyone. Of course, we all need our ego to survive, but I’ve noticed that it has become less fragile and can go further with less pointless compliments.
In other words, I’m facing forward. Getting used to the single life, although that still striked me as terribly sad. I’m taking care of myself again, showing some spine. I even took two days off after working non-stop for two weeks, which end in 10 minutes. Speaking of which, that makes it almost midnight and I have to get up at 5. As much as the first day I had to sleep with the knowledge that she will never share my bed again, I resent going to sleep. I’ve been sleeping horribly too, so in order to avoid laying awake, I wait until the very last possible moment. This doesn’t help my mood, the next day.
I used to love those moments, they allowed me to let my mind roam and let creativity come to me in whatever I was undertaking. I could go to sleep with something in mind, and wake up with a whole array of ideas. Wether it were presents for her birthday (too bad my time-lapse fountain never worked), or ideas for stencils or items to be created on RoP. Nowadays I would bang my head against the wall to get those fucking memories to shut up and my eyes to stay closed for the night.
I’ve never been alone in my life. Sure, lonely plenty of times, but never really on my own. It brands you, and leaves a feeling that lasts even as you’re among friends or colleagues. People pass and talk to you, but you’re walking the line, alone. I remember someone once saying that when we’re in love, we’re at our true capacity. That loneliness is a sort of "lesser state" we’re in. Of course, taking things for granted, I rolled my eyes and discarded it as yet another pinkish, meaningless overgeneralization about that feeling no one can seem to shut the hell up about. Right now I have to revise my opinion. Is this really what an individual is built for, this upright core that positions one foot in front of the other, and gets by? Or are we truely made to share our destinies? It would differ from one person to the next I guess, and that changes the question. Am I made to be alone? When could I possibly answer this question objectively?
I’m a loner, always have been. I have few friends, and I don’t belong in 99% of the places I visit. I ignored my girlfriend until she fucked someone else instead, not to mention her family. My own family, even. You won’t hear from me until you ask, and then my response comes so naturally that you wonder if I am being sarcastic, and actually want to be left alone. On that note: No. I genuinely enjoy company.
So here we are, with a clean slate. Whatever masterpiece I had has faded beyond recognition, and any new friends will possibly never know the girl that was once my soulmate. They will only hear me grumble about "my ex" from time to time, discaring it a the heartbreak that we all had to endure in our own time. We’re all scarred.