Stupid girl.
There's a point at which you need to realize that you are no different from anyone else. You work hard on your personality, fine-tuning it so that it fits you and you feel that you stand out well enough without being too obvious. You develop hobbies, interests, tools to further hone your individuality. You choose a crowd, a place that suits you, activities that please you. But then one day you stop, and you look around and realize that everyone else does that, too. And so many of those everyone elses have made the same choices you have. And that it doesn't really matter anyway, because everyone ends up in the same place. Damn. This sounded better in my head.
Well that's where I am now. There's nothing left to choose but I'm not sure it matters anymore. The finiteness of youth is painfully relevant. As is the finiteness of love. No, really -- how easy it is to fall in and out of love makes me taste metal. The missed connections section of craigslist makes me sad. I read them sometimes, for the humor that some inject into their missed connection, but no matter what, there's always sadness underneath. "You smiled at me. And then you left the train. I wanted to smile back, but I was nervous. I'd love to meet for coffee sometime." It's happened to me too many times; I've glimpsed the future, and it makes me sad when I realize that's not going to happen. But these, they want that future so bad that they will cling to the hope that they'll somehow find that person and fall madly, romantically, ficticiously in love.
I glimpsed the future, too, and it was attainable. Now it isn't. But it was, for a whole year, and I selfishly failed to note it. And then I gave it up, and before I could get it back he found a new future for himself. And I've spent the last eight months in a state of perpetual agony, clinging to my own thread of hope that maybe, one day, I'll find my missed connection and get that future. Honestly? I was afraid of it. It meant compromise on level with one of my greatest fears -- disappointing my family. And, as much as I wish it weren't, I was afraid it would disappoint them. But now he has someone else, who isn't afraid of her family, and whose family isn't disappointed. God. He's like her fucking tolerance trophy. I hate her. But it's okay. Because I'll have a different future. Not that I want a different future, but that matters even less than how unique I can be.
Back to my original point: To be different means nothing when everyone is squashed by the same boot. You want to think that other people, yes, other people think this-and-that but you know better. You think harder than they do, and deeper. But you don't. But you are supposed to think so, because if you stop thinking so then you will stop producing, working, and what have you.
At this point, I don't have much else to continue for but the fear of disappointing my family by not continuing. I think that would disappoint them more than Michael. I wish it were Michael I could disappoint them with instead. But I guess I'll take whatever I can get.
Well that's where I am now. There's nothing left to choose but I'm not sure it matters anymore. The finiteness of youth is painfully relevant. As is the finiteness of love. No, really -- how easy it is to fall in and out of love makes me taste metal. The missed connections section of craigslist makes me sad. I read them sometimes, for the humor that some inject into their missed connection, but no matter what, there's always sadness underneath. "You smiled at me. And then you left the train. I wanted to smile back, but I was nervous. I'd love to meet for coffee sometime." It's happened to me too many times; I've glimpsed the future, and it makes me sad when I realize that's not going to happen. But these, they want that future so bad that they will cling to the hope that they'll somehow find that person and fall madly, romantically, ficticiously in love.
I glimpsed the future, too, and it was attainable. Now it isn't. But it was, for a whole year, and I selfishly failed to note it. And then I gave it up, and before I could get it back he found a new future for himself. And I've spent the last eight months in a state of perpetual agony, clinging to my own thread of hope that maybe, one day, I'll find my missed connection and get that future. Honestly? I was afraid of it. It meant compromise on level with one of my greatest fears -- disappointing my family. And, as much as I wish it weren't, I was afraid it would disappoint them. But now he has someone else, who isn't afraid of her family, and whose family isn't disappointed. God. He's like her fucking tolerance trophy. I hate her. But it's okay. Because I'll have a different future. Not that I want a different future, but that matters even less than how unique I can be.
Back to my original point: To be different means nothing when everyone is squashed by the same boot. You want to think that other people, yes, other people think this-and-that but you know better. You think harder than they do, and deeper. But you don't. But you are supposed to think so, because if you stop thinking so then you will stop producing, working, and what have you.
At this point, I don't have much else to continue for but the fear of disappointing my family by not continuing. I think that would disappoint them more than Michael. I wish it were Michael I could disappoint them with instead. But I guess I'll take whatever I can get.