Ways to put off finishing a paper 101: write about love
I can't think of what to write about this editorial from four years ago, so I decided to write about four years ago instead.
Every now and then I have these dreams, and we've talked about this in our off and on phone calls. It's usually not about anything special, their mundaneness is what makes them stand out. They'll be like snippets of you, flashes of us just being in love. These dreams might as well be memories because it takes hard thought to think of specifics anymore. What's happened since then has made everything cloudy and I hoped that it would never be that way. I'm not trying to make it seem like I'm holding on, because there really isn't anything tangible left that I like to think about.
It's a similar story with everyone else. Maybe it has to do with the consistent and strikingly-alike, reasons behind the terminations of all the kinda, sorta, 'should i change my Facebook relationship status?' relationships I've been in since then. My moms tell me from time to time how in the midst of my deepest depression, even though I was in the house, even though I was a part of the family, my absence was substantial. They couldn't feel me anymore. And I guess that's why I keep writing about all this. That relationship was such a huge part of my life, of me, that trying to figure out what went wrong with it has taken up a lot of my time. It's not only that, it's what I had planned on my life being like that's gone missing. In some ways I'm exactly the way I want to be and the way I thought I would be, but the circumstances of my life aren't what I wanted. I didn't want to have pseudo-loves with women. I wanted to have one and be done with it.
When I tore a ligament in my elbow sophomore year I had to rehabilitate it with physical therapy. It wasn't the first time and probably won't be the last time that I'm given a set of painful exercises to do to recover. You do the motions that hurt over and over to make the broken part strong once more. You do this until you're ready to use that piece of you again.
Every now and then I have these dreams, and we've talked about this in our off and on phone calls. It's usually not about anything special, their mundaneness is what makes them stand out. They'll be like snippets of you, flashes of us just being in love. These dreams might as well be memories because it takes hard thought to think of specifics anymore. What's happened since then has made everything cloudy and I hoped that it would never be that way. I'm not trying to make it seem like I'm holding on, because there really isn't anything tangible left that I like to think about.
It's a similar story with everyone else. Maybe it has to do with the consistent and strikingly-alike, reasons behind the terminations of all the kinda, sorta, 'should i change my Facebook relationship status?' relationships I've been in since then. My moms tell me from time to time how in the midst of my deepest depression, even though I was in the house, even though I was a part of the family, my absence was substantial. They couldn't feel me anymore. And I guess that's why I keep writing about all this. That relationship was such a huge part of my life, of me, that trying to figure out what went wrong with it has taken up a lot of my time. It's not only that, it's what I had planned on my life being like that's gone missing. In some ways I'm exactly the way I want to be and the way I thought I would be, but the circumstances of my life aren't what I wanted. I didn't want to have pseudo-loves with women. I wanted to have one and be done with it.
When I tore a ligament in my elbow sophomore year I had to rehabilitate it with physical therapy. It wasn't the first time and probably won't be the last time that I'm given a set of painful exercises to do to recover. You do the motions that hurt over and over to make the broken part strong once more. You do this until you're ready to use that piece of you again.