In the best way imaginable, I have completely fallen victim to the type of human being I’ve known for years I needed. If we were two cutouts of construction paper in a kindergarten classroom, he would be blue and I would be pink, and there would be no mistaking one for the other because I am exactly who I am supposed to be when he’s next to me, and he is exactly who he is supposed to be when I am next to him: a girl and a boy. A girl and a boy who are the epitome of classic girl and boy gender roles, with the biggest differentiating factor being my safety-scissored shape, which dons a sassy triangular skirt, standing proudly next to my hunky parallel-o-man.
In other words, be careful what you wish for. I’ve said it more than several times in this journal that I believe far too strongly that as soon as I am grateful for something out loud, it slips away. I started writing this post about a week ago when in that moment, it made sense. For some reason, I wasn’t able to continue, likely because I knew that the next part needed to feel a certain sort of way that wasn’t natural. I knew that for me to make the most of my keyboard, I needed some time to pass so I could properly print my pain on paper.
Drawing me in and you kicking me out.
And it happened, the way it always seems to. I’m right there. Staring someone in the face that doesn’t deserve it, someone who manages to break me down in a way that I welcome. It’s only once in a seemingly long while that someone understands me in a way that I feel compelled to let them. It’s the type of comfort that I believe we were put on this earth to experience not only once, but many times, except I imagine it’s with the goal of getting better at it all. “It”, of course, being conditioning yourself to those that will leave the scars along the way.
You got my head spinning, no kidding, I can’t pin you down.
And then, without any warning at all, I seem to become the worst version of myself. The one that was light years away when he was helping me be the best version of myself. But really, I’ve come to think that we are truly only one version of ourselves, for better or for worse, and it’s up to us and us alone to determine how much percentage each piece of us leaks out into the world on the regular. That’s not to say that different people can’t tap into one or the other and ignite the flame that sets our world on fire, but being aware of how someone can get to us and better, still, how we own our reactions when that happens is what keeps us grounded.
What’s going on in that beautiful mind?
Overall, I’d say that I’ve had a really uncomfortable last couple of years when it comes to relationships with other people (romantic and otherwise). There are some days that I have a wall that I reinforce with weatherproof mortar and others that I notice the cracks in and struggle to figure out if I want to see more sun or if I need to do some patchwork. I’m learning that I’ve grown only tired of the solitude, but as soon as I start removing bricks, I end up seeing something that quickly reminds me of why I’ve been living this way in the first place. And rather than understanding how to work through a (minor) emotional breakdown, I back up quickly and revert to my old friend, darkness. My “rightness” is reinforced, but so is securing a future alone.
I’m on your magical mystery ride, and I’m so dizzy, don’t know what hit me.
The more I write, the more I am able to hold myself together. Last week I had such a derailment from a healthy state of mind that I actually questioned if I had changed at all in the last few years or if rather, I had only stifled that piece of my puzzle for so long that I had just assumed it dead. All it took was the sort of interaction that mattered more to me than it should have, and out I flew from six feet under. And the casualties? Plenty. But perhaps my ability to unravel my thoughts in this way will give me the ability to take a different approach. I am starting to read between these aforementioned lines, and sometimes it’s what isn’t said out loud that holds the answers to it all.
But I’ll be alright.
The Four Eleven 