(no subject)
Funny, the more perceptive I become, the less comfortable I am.
I was at a party tonight, full of VCU/high school kids I didn't know, watching them do nothin' but play beer pong and talk about weed. And one absolute truth I can tell you of the night is that, in the foremost of my mind, I was terrified. I felt like I was being ambushed by unfamiliar people, opposing the happier alternative of being graced with the opportunity of knowing a dozen different people. And as the evening progressed and I got to assess most from watching their reactions to various shit and interactions with each other, I realized that for all but a couple, I didn't care. After a couple hours I felt I knew each personality there, even if I didn't carry a conversation with them. Spending some time in relative solitude's given me a keener judgement, to sum it up. But luckily at the same time, the judgements don't rule how I think. I've learned by seeing in myself things I'd rather not, but through time I've accepted that some of it can't be removed, and it's gotta be lived with or life would suck a good fraction more than it has to. Maybe these kids have seen that too, maybe not, but either way nobody's perfect even on the most basic levels of knowing someone, and here judgement can't be fairly held. Maybe that's a truth too. The fact that it makes me feel a hell of a lot better brings to question it's validity.
Heh, but simultaneously, as open minded as I'd like to be with people on a more personal basis, I make it so hard to get close to someone. I try to find as chill a person as I can, so when there's a minimum of real conflict, I can feel comfortable around them. And the more I see of people, the harder it is not to find conflict. Now no two minds will ever always agree, so conflict is unavoidable and not in itself a bad thing; intelligent debates are fun as hell. It's the immaturity with which people deal with personal discrepencies that I walk away from. Drama makes me sick, and how people clash around me and bare their teeth at each other when they feel threatened... it's a really uncomfortable state to be in. When I first started to notice that irk was when getting to know people became harder. So now I stand with three to four people, family included, that I don't feel stranded around. And not often are we all together when there is real harmony. I miss high school when we all really knew each other. It's harder when my friends are a collective of people found in odd different places who would normally have near to no chance of meeting each other, and quite of few of them are also fairly introverted. And once again on the other hand, to balance it out, my life's been isolated for a while, and I got thrown out of the loop I had going for myself.
I've been living across the river from the main of Richmond. From VCU, from the kids I knew there, from everything I needed to keep me balanced within an enjoyable walk from my front door. Please, call me crazy. I'm in a housing complex on southside, on the edge of the residential riverside suburbs, quality and closeless gradually graying out the further you go in any direction but north. I got wrapped up in nothing seven months ago and missed the FAFSA deadline, so I didn't pick up any classes in August, and I quit the waitressing job I had for less than two months on a whim a month ago (because I woke up and the bullshit didn't seem worthit anymore). Then I fled to the shore for a blessed week of content nothingness . Laughed about shit with my mom while we both unloaded our minds to each other, drinking wine with her at night and beer during the day. My brother's growing into a really cool person, and it was fun to speak truth with him. And at night when everyone slept I slipped out and went wherever I wanted. Spent time outside listening to music, went skinny dipping in the bay in a close by residential gem. Didn't bother calling anyone being they were all back in various parts of the country for the year, so it was a solitude without regret.
Then I went to northern virginia to spend time with Andy while he sat his parent's house, and I told him, in so many words before it was out, I wasn't in love with him anymore, and I don't know when I'd stopped. I've had a peculiar feeling of dread about our relationship for a long time now, and I've tried to be gently open with him about it. So I thought considering maybe by this time he'd feel the same way. And that's the state of mind I took when I told him that my heart checked out of it so long ago chances were it wasn't coming back around. And he was calm; reserved though sincere. He simply said, as he had before, that if I was happy, even if it wasn't with him, he was alright. I didn't want to leave him 'cause I love him, and that was clear, but he assured me he wouldn't suffer without me, though he was happy with me. The type of person who's happy with most anything given him. Heh, he was so serene and I was the one who ended up visibly distraught, in the end. But hey, the instics are still driven by a chick. Sadly "I'm only but a female" doesn't sound as poetic when the word isn't "man."
Since then I've made more of an effort to bring back some of the life I had, and upon agreeing that we'd live together until the lease was up, drifted basically back in to what we had before I left for the shore. A friendship devoid of most intimate affection. Not just sex, but both earnest and spontaneous ways of declaring our feelings for each other. I mean, we both hold the idea that constant displays of feeling aren't necessary, even if they are sincere. Like always saying "I love you," buying gifts and making each other feel good when many others would expect their lovers to. But in my eyes the problem lies in how we only seem to feel comfortable saying "I love you" as a form of farewell on the phone, and cute dirty, but romantically innocent, cuddling is the closest physical contact we often have with each other. Even that doesn't always happen day to day, unless we're in public, ironicly enough. For the most part his mind is focused entirely on an elsewhere consisting of a video game, and if his mind is too tired from that to interact, the TV. He's not a fan of occasionally doing nothing but chillin' and talking, analyzing, pointing out stuff that we are drawn to or angrily interested in, and either laughing in agreement or enjoying finding out why we don't see it the same way. Or listening to/creating music together, unless we're in the car.
I don't feel impassioned around him at all, and I find myself looking for the people that I do. I've come to miss the wild streak I felt I had in me, and have watched it grow in its dormancy. Not the kind of wild that drives people to random sex and getting drunk while doing something "ethically" risky. The kind that would drive me to hike a mountain at night with someone cool I'm eager to know and a pocket full of green (the last thrown in on a whimsical note). I'd love for that lifestyle to be a normality for me. Aah, but it's so far from that I'm lost in the translation. And I've been so bored that my imagination has really let loose, and I've got so many potent ideas of what would make me feel alive. They're ripe for the picking, and they'd lead to a reversal, a complete black to white, of the direction my physical life is headed in.
Seeing this, I worried what to do about Andy. Partly for reasons stated above, I felt when much was said and done my time would have seen more production and heart in emotional solitude than in such a close partnership. I stayed and wondered how it would end while I gave our relationship the time we both knew it needed. And it turns out that while time has brought acceptance, and therefor novacaine, to the situation, it also brought the flipside when what I was accepting was the fact that I couldn't fullfill myself with him. And at an age when I'm just really starting to discover what gets me going... it's like getting emotionally and mentally neutered when you're enjoying learning how the hell to use it.
So there's the backstory behind it. The evidence to justify the means and the end, and why I'm looking towards a life without someone I love in the scheme of things. There has been a sense of relief since telling Andy, no holds barred, but there are certain things I've felt remorse for. Though we're as unburdened and playful around each other as we've always been, no deeper feelings shown. Except for tonight, when we went to a party hosted by some of his friends from home, some from school. He's always really sweet with me when we're in a group of people he knows, and I attribute it to him being happy with people he hasn't seen in a while. So once we got home, drunk and high, I saw the earnesty he never lets show and it's there as much as it was when we first got together. But the months have been so dry of this... I wasn't feeling it. So instead of giving him the long awaited chance he probably deserved to prove my theories wrong for now, I stuck to my word and massaged his head while he sighed until he was asleep. I see he has a thick shell that he's comfortable with. Doesn't feel he needs people to break it for him to be happy. That's a great thing, to be distant and satisfied, because you're relatively safe and loneliness doesn't affect. But while I sometimes find it an intruiging and worthwhile challenge to crack through someone's intense defensive layers, it's too much for me to seriously invest myself in. I'm too open of a person at heart.
I know this is going to suck more before it gets better, because we're slowly easing out of a relationship, instead of going our separate ways the moment there's no hope. And I'd rather it suck more for me, 'cause I know I can handle it. I don't want him to feel even an iota of what I felt when I was the one at the receiving end of something like this. But if he does, I doubt I'll see it, and I know he'll deal with it well. I wonder if it could partially be akin to fiening indifference or anger for a loved one to end up happier. Masking disappointment so a lover won't suffer to spare a broken heart.
What I felt when I was holding his head was what drove me to write something down. It's just been so long since I've dissected myself on livejournal, it did span out a bit XP. I wasn't looking for any sense of closure or reassurance in penning it, like I've done in the past, from myself or anyone. I wanted this shit down so I could read it later and remember what I was talking about when I felt there was something important to say and no one was around to hear it.
I was at a party tonight, full of VCU/high school kids I didn't know, watching them do nothin' but play beer pong and talk about weed. And one absolute truth I can tell you of the night is that, in the foremost of my mind, I was terrified. I felt like I was being ambushed by unfamiliar people, opposing the happier alternative of being graced with the opportunity of knowing a dozen different people. And as the evening progressed and I got to assess most from watching their reactions to various shit and interactions with each other, I realized that for all but a couple, I didn't care. After a couple hours I felt I knew each personality there, even if I didn't carry a conversation with them. Spending some time in relative solitude's given me a keener judgement, to sum it up. But luckily at the same time, the judgements don't rule how I think. I've learned by seeing in myself things I'd rather not, but through time I've accepted that some of it can't be removed, and it's gotta be lived with or life would suck a good fraction more than it has to. Maybe these kids have seen that too, maybe not, but either way nobody's perfect even on the most basic levels of knowing someone, and here judgement can't be fairly held. Maybe that's a truth too. The fact that it makes me feel a hell of a lot better brings to question it's validity.
Heh, but simultaneously, as open minded as I'd like to be with people on a more personal basis, I make it so hard to get close to someone. I try to find as chill a person as I can, so when there's a minimum of real conflict, I can feel comfortable around them. And the more I see of people, the harder it is not to find conflict. Now no two minds will ever always agree, so conflict is unavoidable and not in itself a bad thing; intelligent debates are fun as hell. It's the immaturity with which people deal with personal discrepencies that I walk away from. Drama makes me sick, and how people clash around me and bare their teeth at each other when they feel threatened... it's a really uncomfortable state to be in. When I first started to notice that irk was when getting to know people became harder. So now I stand with three to four people, family included, that I don't feel stranded around. And not often are we all together when there is real harmony. I miss high school when we all really knew each other. It's harder when my friends are a collective of people found in odd different places who would normally have near to no chance of meeting each other, and quite of few of them are also fairly introverted. And once again on the other hand, to balance it out, my life's been isolated for a while, and I got thrown out of the loop I had going for myself.
I've been living across the river from the main of Richmond. From VCU, from the kids I knew there, from everything I needed to keep me balanced within an enjoyable walk from my front door. Please, call me crazy. I'm in a housing complex on southside, on the edge of the residential riverside suburbs, quality and closeless gradually graying out the further you go in any direction but north. I got wrapped up in nothing seven months ago and missed the FAFSA deadline, so I didn't pick up any classes in August, and I quit the waitressing job I had for less than two months on a whim a month ago (because I woke up and the bullshit didn't seem worthit anymore). Then I fled to the shore for a blessed week of content nothingness . Laughed about shit with my mom while we both unloaded our minds to each other, drinking wine with her at night and beer during the day. My brother's growing into a really cool person, and it was fun to speak truth with him. And at night when everyone slept I slipped out and went wherever I wanted. Spent time outside listening to music, went skinny dipping in the bay in a close by residential gem. Didn't bother calling anyone being they were all back in various parts of the country for the year, so it was a solitude without regret.
Then I went to northern virginia to spend time with Andy while he sat his parent's house, and I told him, in so many words before it was out, I wasn't in love with him anymore, and I don't know when I'd stopped. I've had a peculiar feeling of dread about our relationship for a long time now, and I've tried to be gently open with him about it. So I thought considering maybe by this time he'd feel the same way. And that's the state of mind I took when I told him that my heart checked out of it so long ago chances were it wasn't coming back around. And he was calm; reserved though sincere. He simply said, as he had before, that if I was happy, even if it wasn't with him, he was alright. I didn't want to leave him 'cause I love him, and that was clear, but he assured me he wouldn't suffer without me, though he was happy with me. The type of person who's happy with most anything given him. Heh, he was so serene and I was the one who ended up visibly distraught, in the end. But hey, the instics are still driven by a chick. Sadly "I'm only but a female" doesn't sound as poetic when the word isn't "man."
Since then I've made more of an effort to bring back some of the life I had, and upon agreeing that we'd live together until the lease was up, drifted basically back in to what we had before I left for the shore. A friendship devoid of most intimate affection. Not just sex, but both earnest and spontaneous ways of declaring our feelings for each other. I mean, we both hold the idea that constant displays of feeling aren't necessary, even if they are sincere. Like always saying "I love you," buying gifts and making each other feel good when many others would expect their lovers to. But in my eyes the problem lies in how we only seem to feel comfortable saying "I love you" as a form of farewell on the phone, and cute dirty, but romantically innocent, cuddling is the closest physical contact we often have with each other. Even that doesn't always happen day to day, unless we're in public, ironicly enough. For the most part his mind is focused entirely on an elsewhere consisting of a video game, and if his mind is too tired from that to interact, the TV. He's not a fan of occasionally doing nothing but chillin' and talking, analyzing, pointing out stuff that we are drawn to or angrily interested in, and either laughing in agreement or enjoying finding out why we don't see it the same way. Or listening to/creating music together, unless we're in the car.
I don't feel impassioned around him at all, and I find myself looking for the people that I do. I've come to miss the wild streak I felt I had in me, and have watched it grow in its dormancy. Not the kind of wild that drives people to random sex and getting drunk while doing something "ethically" risky. The kind that would drive me to hike a mountain at night with someone cool I'm eager to know and a pocket full of green (the last thrown in on a whimsical note). I'd love for that lifestyle to be a normality for me. Aah, but it's so far from that I'm lost in the translation. And I've been so bored that my imagination has really let loose, and I've got so many potent ideas of what would make me feel alive. They're ripe for the picking, and they'd lead to a reversal, a complete black to white, of the direction my physical life is headed in.
Seeing this, I worried what to do about Andy. Partly for reasons stated above, I felt when much was said and done my time would have seen more production and heart in emotional solitude than in such a close partnership. I stayed and wondered how it would end while I gave our relationship the time we both knew it needed. And it turns out that while time has brought acceptance, and therefor novacaine, to the situation, it also brought the flipside when what I was accepting was the fact that I couldn't fullfill myself with him. And at an age when I'm just really starting to discover what gets me going... it's like getting emotionally and mentally neutered when you're enjoying learning how the hell to use it.
So there's the backstory behind it. The evidence to justify the means and the end, and why I'm looking towards a life without someone I love in the scheme of things. There has been a sense of relief since telling Andy, no holds barred, but there are certain things I've felt remorse for. Though we're as unburdened and playful around each other as we've always been, no deeper feelings shown. Except for tonight, when we went to a party hosted by some of his friends from home, some from school. He's always really sweet with me when we're in a group of people he knows, and I attribute it to him being happy with people he hasn't seen in a while. So once we got home, drunk and high, I saw the earnesty he never lets show and it's there as much as it was when we first got together. But the months have been so dry of this... I wasn't feeling it. So instead of giving him the long awaited chance he probably deserved to prove my theories wrong for now, I stuck to my word and massaged his head while he sighed until he was asleep. I see he has a thick shell that he's comfortable with. Doesn't feel he needs people to break it for him to be happy. That's a great thing, to be distant and satisfied, because you're relatively safe and loneliness doesn't affect. But while I sometimes find it an intruiging and worthwhile challenge to crack through someone's intense defensive layers, it's too much for me to seriously invest myself in. I'm too open of a person at heart.
I know this is going to suck more before it gets better, because we're slowly easing out of a relationship, instead of going our separate ways the moment there's no hope. And I'd rather it suck more for me, 'cause I know I can handle it. I don't want him to feel even an iota of what I felt when I was the one at the receiving end of something like this. But if he does, I doubt I'll see it, and I know he'll deal with it well. I wonder if it could partially be akin to fiening indifference or anger for a loved one to end up happier. Masking disappointment so a lover won't suffer to spare a broken heart.
What I felt when I was holding his head was what drove me to write something down. It's just been so long since I've dissected myself on livejournal, it did span out a bit XP. I wasn't looking for any sense of closure or reassurance in penning it, like I've done in the past, from myself or anyone. I wanted this shit down so I could read it later and remember what I was talking about when I felt there was something important to say and no one was around to hear it.