The post number 50. This was supposed to be a big retrospective post, going back over the last few months of posts and me showing my personal bests and worsts. I decided that I didn't want to go back and read over 49 posts, so it was going to be a "That Guy" update with about eight or so brand spankin' new ones to rant about. And then I made a call, and that all changed.
I clearly have no idea how I am to live my life. I am a twenty year old kid who thinks he knows a hell of a lot more than he actually does. I try and rationalize every problem without having the proper knowledge with which to base actions off of. Throughout various stages of my life, people have come to me to ask simple questions about difficult questions, and I answer them with a false bravado; the all-knowing idiot. This continued on for many years and has treated me well. People get to hear an answer that they either wanted to hear all along or wanted to hear so that they could bash it and do the complete opposite. I have always thought of myself as someone who knows best.
Over the past week I have realized I know absolutely nothing.
To start things off, I'm what can only be described as mired in love. I simply cannot escape it. No matter what I say, no matter how great I am telling you I'm doing, I'm lying. I have been an absolute wreck inside for the last month or so. It isn't like I haven't had the outlet to let these feelings out, I just have decided that if I can put on a happy face that over time I can magically become happy. Turning fat into muscle, water into wine; simple transubstantiation. Unfortunately, you have no one to prove your happiness to when you're alone in your bed at night. There is no one to answer to but your own feelings, and there is no sense lying. Hell, it's impossible.
Every night she skips merrily into my head, plops down, and refuses to leave. Any time I look around, she is knocked into my conscious like a dart. Any time I hear a certain song, she bleeds in from the headphones into my head. I'll toss and turn, or shake it off, or turn off the song to escape. The problem is, I can't escape myself. I have reached the point where I have realized that while it's possible that I could help others, I simply cannot help myself. More so, I don't know if I want to.
I'm tired of playing the games, following "the rules," and trying to do what's "best" for me. It hasn't work, it won't work, and it has landed me in a worse spot than I could have imagined. I was told to not text her, it wouldn't be best for me, or us, so I refrained from doing so. Time went on, and the pit in my stomach grew. Eventually we went back to texting. I needed to hear her voice, but that just shows weakness, that she has the upperhand. "Fuck her," was a common response. It is not very easy to deny someone who you still want to be with. It's been a constant grapple between the head and the heart, and I truly don't know which one I want to win.
The whole process was highlighted with my inability to change things. No matter what happened, it was always her call. If I came back home and I wanted her but she wanted nothing to do with me, what can I do about it? For weeks I have sat in a perpetual "is she or isn't she," regardless of the official name of our relationship. I was on a see-saw every few days between her wanting me back and her tossing me away. Every few days I'd say it wasn't worth it, I had to move on, and I tired. Every few days I couldn't see myself without her, and there was no way to move on. Believe me, I tried.
Now there is a new crossroads that has entered the picture. As I tried to distance myself from her, to push as far away as possible, I only drew her near. Through various attempts and various means, I made it a point to get over her. Who knew how should we sway? The best thing I could do was prepare for the worst and get over her by the time I came back to Jersey. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did, it was seemingly impossible. I have done a lot and all it left me was hollow, empty, even shamed. I continued, hoping that there would be some magical switch to turn her off.
I ran in to it tonight. As if a perverse gift from above, the switch was turned. This whole time I assumed she would distance herself from me, decide that she is better off without me, and move on. Thus, I would have to move on myself as there is nothing left for me to hold on to. Instead, I pushed her away just as I orginally intended. I feel like the super villan who puts on blinders and creates his plan for world domination realizing only when it is completed that it's not what he wanted at all. I am both Frankenstein and his creation; an amalgamation of ambition, regret, and shame.
There are no words in this writing or in any language you can find to atone for my actions. I know that now. There is no blueprint to follow, there is no path to go by until you blaze it yourself. I only wish that lessons didn't hurt the way that they do. I wish that more hearts would be thrown into the fire. I wish I could have seen ahead of time what consequences could come from my actions. I wished I could get over her. I wished I could put the onus on her to force me away. I wish I didn't just pull the trigger and kill something beautiful.
And I know I did.