Just another day.

Let me be clear. I don't like Valentine's Day. I don't like it when I'm single. I didn't like it when I have been in relationships. It's stupid. If you love me, show it. If you want to buy me something to show you care, or make a sweet gesture, do it when I cross your mind. Not because stores are selling roses or cards. Not because commercials are constantly suggesting present ideas. Just because. Having an entire day set aside for me to anxiously await a material representation of your feelings, and vice versa? No thanks. Gifts aren't gifts if they're expected. So skip the flowers and chocolate. A night curled up on the couch together is better anyway.

This isn't a new stance - some defense mechanism to protect myself from exaggerated and unfulfilled hopes. I've felt like this for years, both single and with someone. So why, when my feelings on the subject are clear and unwavering, does this day still make me feel like crap? Dammit.

It's just another day.

2.14.11 10:16am

What Comes Next? I'm Sure I Don't Want To Know.

I'm a mess. I feel lost, hopeless, helpless, and out of control. And bloody exhausted. I cannot escape it. If I knew how, I would. In order to explain, let us back up a few days.

(Sunday)
As of Sunday night, I am no longer in contact with someone who has been a part of my life for years. While I will defend my reasons from here to eternity, it is definitely going to take time to adjust. I keep finding myself saving links for him, or wanting to relate stories, only to pause and go, "Oh wait...never mind". I'm not saying it can't be fixed, but I don't see it changing anytime soon.

(Monday)

Don't Ask

I would just like to preface this post by saying that I very rarely write poetry...it's not a form I can breathe in. However, the first few lines of this were stuck in my head, so I let it write itself. Love it or hate it, it's up to you. I'm not even sure how I feel about it yet; I'm oscillating between extremes. ~A
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Don’t ask
Because I don’t know
And if I did
I probably wouldn’t tell you

Honesty isn’t a fair trade
When all I hear are lies

You look at me
And I feel myself
Falling once again
As much as I say I’m fine

Facets

I wrote the following passage at a time where I was struggling to understand what I wanted and how I felt. I’ve come a long way from the mental state I was in when I wrote it, and a lot of the progress came from physically listing everything I was feeling – sorting it out in a physical way is infinitely easier than attempting to muddle through it all in my brain. If nothing else, I feel like it is a fascinating way to visualize how my brain processes difficult concepts. After writing, and talking through everything with a few close friends, I reached a place where I was no longer pulled in 100 different directions. And now I’m slowly approaching my own internal resolution. So here I document how I felt, as a reminder of who I was, who I want to be, and how I thought through a disheartening situation.

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It has become increasingly clear to me in the past few days just how many facets of me I am balancing. My ability to compartmentalize has always been there, and I think it’s helped me significantly in the past, but sometimes I think it just bites me in the ass. This is me, trying to elucidate how the hell my brain works. And while I may be writing here about my various reactions on one specific topic, I actually do this for pretty much anything that causes me to stress out. Let’s see how many facets we can find. Shall we?

Anticipation

They sat, side by side, on the couch. His feet were planted on the floor, hands resting by his sides. She had her legs folded underneath her. She was leaning slightly toward him due to her chosen position, hands in her lap. They both stared at the TV, but to be honest, she hadn't the faintest idea what she was watching. Her back was stiff, but she couldn't come up with a way to shift her weight that wouldn't seem awkward or fidgety. She settled for moving her hands out of her lap and letting them land on the couch.

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He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. So still. Prim even. Was she really that enthralled with what was on the TV? He'd been looking toward it, sure, but he had been unable to focus on anything other than the girl sitting next to him. Her eyes seemed to be analyzing every pixel, memorizing each scene. Perhaps he was the only one in the room whose mind was so distracted. He did not want to be watching TV. Not with her body so close to his. But if she was enjoying it, he could restrain himself for a bit longer.