You are the reason you are afraid of the dark
Yeah, it has been a long time.
Everything has to catch up with you eventually, right?
I got mine tonight. Tonight, while I'm getting over the flu, and still sitting up stuck with insomnia at 7am, it hit me. Tonight, I had a lot of time to sit in the dark and think about life. You know, THOSE nights... the ones where all of those things that you keep to yourself burst through the dam that you built to protect others from your personal troubles. They choose nights like this because there's nobody else around. It's right at the beginning, and at the end of your journey, that you wonder if nobody being around was a blessing, or a curse. I guarantee you that you won't have the same answer twice. At least, I never have.
I tried to fall asleep first at 9pm, and as soon as I laid down, I got this flash of my old room when I was a kid, and the worst memory that I have of that room. It was the morning of april 4th, 1996; when my mom came in and told me that my dad had passed away during the night. From there, I flashed to the memory that I have of him shuffling down the long hallway in the front of our house, clutching his IV tree, and about 110 pounds lighter than what he was used to. Stomach cancer will get you like that. He was probably as miserable as a man could get, but he was still smiling, and so was I. This memory is so vivid because it's the last time that I can recall giving my dad a hug. That was april 3, 1996. Then I flashed to a memory that has been coming back to me at least 4 times a week since Thanksgiving. It was one of the times that I went into work with my dad before I went to school. I would always go into his office, and he would let me play with one of the empty dental chairs in one of the rooms. Then I would wander into the lobby and read for hours. We'd always go to lunch at Taco Bell (I swear, he loved it more than I do, and that's really saying something), and before I knew it, we'd be heading home. Days like that went by too quickly, and never could happen often enough. I miss that guy more every day, but it's just not something I talk about.
From there, the flood only increased. After I reminiced about my dad for a couple of hours, I went on to think about how I was with my grandpa when he found out his youngest son had died of liver failure. I watched this former marine stand up and gather the fortitude to tell his wife that they had lost a son. He was without a doubt one of the strongest men I was lucky enough to know, let alone learn a thing or two from. I've been to my fair share of funerals, and your share too, probably. I realized this the other day when I was talking to this kid I met in my psych discussion. We were talking about random stuff, and he mentioned that his roommate went home for a funeral, and he was going to have this girl over or something. I mentioned that funerals were probably some of the most psychologically confusing things in the world, and he replied that he had never been to one. For a moment, I had no idea how to react. I just looked at him for a second, and all of a sudden, I felt really happy for him. I suppose that going to 5 funerals before you're 13 years old really puts it on a kid, but I guess the more I think about it, the sadder it sounds.
Anyway, it's still 7am, and I'm still wide awake, so I'm going to finish the story I came here to tell you. Over the last couple of hours, I've just been thinking of the people that I've loved and lost. Someone once said, "It is better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all." To whoever that was, I retort: "Fuck you. Try it." Along with various family members who are no longer around, it seems that a lot of my thoughts turned to this one particular person that I cared for more than I knew. This girl was everything that I wanted, and no matter how hard I try, I can't stop comparing every girl that I meet to her. Now, maybe it's because I didn't get any closure on our "relationship". Maybe it's because I said goodbye, but didn't believe that it was goodbye. Maybe it's because I'm hopeless. Maybe it's the fact that she married (and divorced) a fucking douchebag she knew within 90 days of the last time that she told me she loved me. Maybe it's the fact that I haven't seen her in almost 3 years. Maybe a lot of things. Who knows? The bottom line is that I have the social equivalent of writer's block when it comes to the fact that I can't figure out where in the hell I'm going when I know a girl is into me. I'll fly by the seat of my pants until I get needs filled (like laundry and dishes, I'm not fucking all of these girls. At least that's what I'm telling you), then I freeze up like Rodney King when someone mentions the LAPD. Seriously, I fear for my existence. Then, I end up irrevocably fucking my chances up. Aaaand then, the cycle repeats.
All this because I loved this girl and never said goodbye, believing that it would be the last time I saw her? Yeah, something like that.
Am I going to get over it? Absolutely.
Do I have any clue how? Not the slightest.
And am I worried about any of this? Shit, no.
Why? It's simple: I'm a handsome, successful guy who has plenty of years ahead of him. I have no doubts that not only will I see this girl again, I'll get my chance to see if she's everything that I've built her up to be. You can bet your ass that if she is, I'm not letting go this time. Once that chapter is closed, I'm ready to write a new one. That's not saying that I haven't been writing new chapters every day. That one's just not all thought out yet. That's how life works best for me.
----
So, after about 5 hours of basking in the memories of those that I have loved and lost, and sharing my travels with you, I'm going to call it a night.
We're all a little fucked up.
Okay, maybe it's just you.
Everything has to catch up with you eventually, right?
I got mine tonight. Tonight, while I'm getting over the flu, and still sitting up stuck with insomnia at 7am, it hit me. Tonight, I had a lot of time to sit in the dark and think about life. You know, THOSE nights... the ones where all of those things that you keep to yourself burst through the dam that you built to protect others from your personal troubles. They choose nights like this because there's nobody else around. It's right at the beginning, and at the end of your journey, that you wonder if nobody being around was a blessing, or a curse. I guarantee you that you won't have the same answer twice. At least, I never have.
I tried to fall asleep first at 9pm, and as soon as I laid down, I got this flash of my old room when I was a kid, and the worst memory that I have of that room. It was the morning of april 4th, 1996; when my mom came in and told me that my dad had passed away during the night. From there, I flashed to the memory that I have of him shuffling down the long hallway in the front of our house, clutching his IV tree, and about 110 pounds lighter than what he was used to. Stomach cancer will get you like that. He was probably as miserable as a man could get, but he was still smiling, and so was I. This memory is so vivid because it's the last time that I can recall giving my dad a hug. That was april 3, 1996. Then I flashed to a memory that has been coming back to me at least 4 times a week since Thanksgiving. It was one of the times that I went into work with my dad before I went to school. I would always go into his office, and he would let me play with one of the empty dental chairs in one of the rooms. Then I would wander into the lobby and read for hours. We'd always go to lunch at Taco Bell (I swear, he loved it more than I do, and that's really saying something), and before I knew it, we'd be heading home. Days like that went by too quickly, and never could happen often enough. I miss that guy more every day, but it's just not something I talk about.
From there, the flood only increased. After I reminiced about my dad for a couple of hours, I went on to think about how I was with my grandpa when he found out his youngest son had died of liver failure. I watched this former marine stand up and gather the fortitude to tell his wife that they had lost a son. He was without a doubt one of the strongest men I was lucky enough to know, let alone learn a thing or two from. I've been to my fair share of funerals, and your share too, probably. I realized this the other day when I was talking to this kid I met in my psych discussion. We were talking about random stuff, and he mentioned that his roommate went home for a funeral, and he was going to have this girl over or something. I mentioned that funerals were probably some of the most psychologically confusing things in the world, and he replied that he had never been to one. For a moment, I had no idea how to react. I just looked at him for a second, and all of a sudden, I felt really happy for him. I suppose that going to 5 funerals before you're 13 years old really puts it on a kid, but I guess the more I think about it, the sadder it sounds.
Anyway, it's still 7am, and I'm still wide awake, so I'm going to finish the story I came here to tell you. Over the last couple of hours, I've just been thinking of the people that I've loved and lost. Someone once said, "It is better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all." To whoever that was, I retort: "Fuck you. Try it." Along with various family members who are no longer around, it seems that a lot of my thoughts turned to this one particular person that I cared for more than I knew. This girl was everything that I wanted, and no matter how hard I try, I can't stop comparing every girl that I meet to her. Now, maybe it's because I didn't get any closure on our "relationship". Maybe it's because I said goodbye, but didn't believe that it was goodbye. Maybe it's because I'm hopeless. Maybe it's the fact that she married (and divorced) a fucking douchebag she knew within 90 days of the last time that she told me she loved me. Maybe it's the fact that I haven't seen her in almost 3 years. Maybe a lot of things. Who knows? The bottom line is that I have the social equivalent of writer's block when it comes to the fact that I can't figure out where in the hell I'm going when I know a girl is into me. I'll fly by the seat of my pants until I get needs filled (like laundry and dishes, I'm not fucking all of these girls. At least that's what I'm telling you), then I freeze up like Rodney King when someone mentions the LAPD. Seriously, I fear for my existence. Then, I end up irrevocably fucking my chances up. Aaaand then, the cycle repeats.
All this because I loved this girl and never said goodbye, believing that it would be the last time I saw her? Yeah, something like that.
Am I going to get over it? Absolutely.
Do I have any clue how? Not the slightest.
And am I worried about any of this? Shit, no.
Why? It's simple: I'm a handsome, successful guy who has plenty of years ahead of him. I have no doubts that not only will I see this girl again, I'll get my chance to see if she's everything that I've built her up to be. You can bet your ass that if she is, I'm not letting go this time. Once that chapter is closed, I'm ready to write a new one. That's not saying that I haven't been writing new chapters every day. That one's just not all thought out yet. That's how life works best for me.
----
So, after about 5 hours of basking in the memories of those that I have loved and lost, and sharing my travels with you, I'm going to call it a night.
We're all a little fucked up.
Okay, maybe it's just you.