Diary Opened

August 3rd 2019

I stumbled upon this old project on accident really. I read the first few chapters and was shocked that the words written down on the page still are as clear to me as they used to be. I relate to the girl in those first chapters. I understand her thoughts. I still have those same thoughts.

I still worry. I still procrastinate. I still fear that my future is unclear. Time still torments me. So why am I adding another chapter so late in my story? Because in true diary fashion I think that writing down the current state of my life will in fact give me something to look back on. I'll be able to look back on moments when they become foggy and remember for a few minutes how things used to be.

I'm happy. I've been happy for a long while now. And I'm teetering on the verge of change. It scares me. We've already established the unknown scares me, terrifies me really. I'm about to put one foot in front of the other and topple off into the unknown once again against my wishes, since that damn foe time of me is at my backside pushing me forward. 

I met someone. I want to write that down because I don't want it to slip away into one of my brushed over and falsified memories. And I'm happy. It feels good having a person who cares for you. It feels good knowing there is always someone in your corner. Someone who won't judge you. Someone who will laugh with you. Someone who you can relate to. I've been happy. 

I should mention I was terrified to start this relationship. I specifically remember hiding out before the first time we were supposed to go out together because I was so scared. This is like pulling teeth for you isn't it?  Those were the words I had said in jest to myself as a dare to get me to leave my hiding place. 

I'm not an emotional person. At least I don't think I am. I'm certainly not one for normalcy. One day this person surprised me with armloads of presents that any girl should dream about. They should fawn over. Tell me I'm so lucky. And you know what my proper emotional response was? I hid from the presents and practically laid down on the floor unresponsive and shaking telling passerbyers lies and urging them to get away from me and not touch me. I told my best friend that I did not have the emotional capacity to handle this situation. It took me about a half hour for me to collect myself enough until I could practice therapy for myself by running away from my problems. Literally. I ran with the wind at my heels. I have only felt faster once in my lifetime (after extensive extensive conditioning for months). 

It was just a few days later when I was asked the dreaded question. DTR. Define the relationship. As all normal girls do I texted my best friend and we desperately tried to use humor to deflect how lost we both were. After a few choice comments relating to fascist dictators and a couple floating comments about how I could run off with his best friends instead. I ignored every nauseous fiber in my being and reluctantly said sure. Aren't I a dream.

I was scared of being with him. I was scared of being too attached. Too clingy. Too stereotypical. Too dependent. I was scared we'd turn out not to be very compatible after all. I was scared our conversations would turn dry so I was afraid to start them. And I reminded myself about the motto which got me into this mess in the first place, if you're not going forward you're going backwards. 

Time jump and I'm happy. I'm comfortable. I like having someone. I don't know what love is, but I know that the word has accidentally tried to escape my lips on several occasions. His family is perfect. His dog is perfect. Sometimes he takes me away and I can picture an easy future. Rings by the ocean. Sometimes he feels as close to perfect as I will ever find, so I'm scared to let go. There are certainly still flaws, I still worry about the conversation drying up especially as distance seems to separate us further and further. And timing is my true enemy as always. When I find myself parting ways with him even just for the night uninvited tears line my eyes with silver. I am not an emotional person. That's what I remind myself. That's what I remind myself as water leaks down my cheek and I turn my head away. A new single thought roams my mind This is gonna be the guy that breaks my heart. The girl incapable of functioning with proper emotions can see the future and can see heartbreak. 

I don't know what to do. When you see the train wreck coming do you jump? Do you abandon ship and fall alone into the unknown?  Or do you ride out the last moments of comfort and bliss holding onto them for as long as you can? If there was a time jump button maybe that would work. A promise to call me when he returns. A promise that in so many years he may still love me, he may still want me. But in so many years I won't be the same. He won't be the same. We won't be the same. I know that. I'm a logical person. I wish I wasn't so emotional. People ask me about our plans and I've gotten to the point where I can put on a tight grin and will the tears in my eyes to disappear and honestly say I'm not sure but I think it's going to hurt. 

The last time I said that to someone they had a ghost smile on their face with a haunted look in their eyes saying the most honest thing they could to me. Yes. Yes it is. 

How do you miss something you still have in your life? I truly don't know, but I know I feel it. I feel the longing for the days when we had time. Longing for time to pause and give us a year in a bubble. Seeing the future is a blessing and a burden. I can't do anything to change it except brace for impact. My best preventative coping measures consist of sad songs playlist already prepared and ready to be deployed in a panic. 

So why do we do this to ourselves? Let ourselves fall? We're all masochists is a simple answer. We're all naive optimists is an alternative. We want to roll the dice and see what outcome turns up. Hoping that maybe just maybe we'll be the ones to beat the odds. (But of course the real answer is probably closer to emotions- namely hormones)