Behind the Facade

whatshouldwecallme:

First off, sorry about being so terrible about updating. To be honest, I’ve been a little scared of putting ink—virtual or not—to my thoughts. Once they’re written here, they’re no longer mine, they can’t be retracted, can’t be edited, and can’t be willed away into nonexistence. I guess it sounds silly, but whatever.

Next, title credit to Maroon 5. The song discusses a lost soul; repeatedly saying, “come away little lamb to the slaughter.” My life isn’t as bad as all that, but it does kind of set the tone. Depressingly enough, I’m on spring break, and yet, not really enjoying myself. Sure, I’m loving the food, seeing my parents, and basking in the familiarity, but underneath the gilded surface of a homecoming is all of the rusted and festering problems that have grown in my absence added to the ongoing drama from back in Boston. Sometimes I wonder if other people are even worth it. God, that sounds so defeated and depressed but the past few days have really worn me down.  

First, and I hate to complain about this because everyone gave tons of legitimate excuses, but I was a little pissed that I ended up coming home to Atlanta by myself. It’s not really a big deal, because I was surrounded by old friends once I got here, but still…it makes me wonder how many people at MIT really care about me? I’m probably way off base in putting such a tangible price on all my friendships, but it is enough to make me wonder. Though, a side note, I miss everyone a butt-ton, especially Taylor, I know I probably don’t give him enough credit, but he is always there for me with as little judgement as possible. What a boss. I wish he was more comfortable in his own skin. I wish he had a little confidence to bolster an already great personality, but most of all, I wish he could find someone who appreciates him just as much as I do. God knows he needs a little non-platonic love.

Speaking of my favorite confidant, I could have used him this week; though, we are having a sleepover on Saturday night. This week has kind of been a revenge of the exes. It sounds like a bad horror flick, and it has been to some degree…

Patrick Carter is about to go down range to finish SEALs training. We had lunch earlier this week, and i wanted for it to mean something, not romantically, obvi, but something nonetheless. But all throughout lunch, I couldn’t seem to figure out what I ever saw in him. We have nothing in common and had nothing really to talk about after all of the catching-up-pleasantries had been exhausted. I respect what hes doing with his life and hopefully will continue to keep in touch with him, but thats about it. I feel like I should feel more. I feel guilty for not feeling more torn up about a chapter in my life closing, but I’m not. Maybe it’s a good thing.  

Craig Davenport is still working at chick-fil-a. I ran into him up in Athens. Still sweet, tall, religious, and good looking, but it was almost painfully awkward talking to him. We were never ever that serious, so it was just kind of a random reminder that I had no idea what I wanted in high school.

And even though i had no idea what I wanted, I still managed to stumble upon exactly what I needed. Jack Winfrey.  Now, I’m kind of more confused than ever. I hadn’t planned on seeing him while I was home, but I ran into George Winfrey at Kroger, and things just progressed from there. We went to lunch yesterday, and I can honestly say that I hadn’t known what to expect. Before actually seeing him, i would have sworn up and down that I was over it. I had moved on. He was a total and complete asshole. I deserve better (well maybe not, but regardless). I only agreed to meet with him to clear the air, to make sure that the fucking small town rumor mill had nothing to fuel its fire, but alas, I was wrong. As soon as we hugged hello, I was a goner. Falling back into Jack’s arms felt like coming home. Better than sleeping in my own bed or running the well worn trails in the morning, the smell and the feel of him haven’t changed, and they felt more real, more substantial, than any of the lies, words, and promises I’ve heard since I left the sleepy suburbs. Talking to him, there was never an awkward moment. It was at the end of lunch, after we’d already agreed to go get coffee and talk more, that Jack voiced what I had been thinking, “It’s like nothing ever changed. We’re still great together.” It wasn’t the beginning of us getting back together. We’re both too smart and self aware for that. And even though I know Jack doesn’t love me anymore, when I’m with him I feel like there’s bubbles rising inside me, the carbonation of happiness if you will. I know I shouldn’t have, but we kissed…a lot. And the best way to describe it is a filament of sensation, like a thin line of kerosene that, for the love of a match can turn into a wall of fire. I’m probably just tearing holes in myself for later, but it felt so right. I’m not sure I love him, at least not the way I used to, but we truly are the right relationship just the wrong situation and the wrong time, two magnets of the same pole who are forced into close contact but can’t help but to shy away. Why is he branded in my skin? As far away as I think I am, coming back home brings the realization that I never really got away. 

Now, away from home, from the lovely South, and back to the damned Yankees in my life (and I do mean that in the best way possible). I guess seeing Jack and having the manners and the morals was nice. I missed the directness. We loved each other. We both still feel the spark. We both still mean something/everything to each other. The End. Why the fuck is everything with Sammy and Brian so much more difficult? I mean, fuck, one afternoon with an ex boyfriend SHOULD NOT make me feel more loved, more valued, and more respected then the best efforts of two boys who “love” me. 

But please, don’t get me wrong. I adore Sammy and Brian. Sammy is the eternal good guy. He lets me walk all over him and is still there when I need a shoulder to cry on, there when everyone else has mysteriously disappeared. There is something to be said for passion, I have always believed that love should be white hot, something just as dangerous as it is beautiful, but what if I’ve been wrong. What if Sammy’s brand of love, consistent, safe, and stable, is the more prudent emotion to choose? 

 I love Brian, but sometimes, as is most evident with Jack, love isn’t enough. If I were only to judge by the things he says, I would believe whole-heartedly that he loves me just as much as I love him, that he wants to give this (whatever exactly this is) a chance, that he wants to give us a chance. However, the real world isn’t solely comprised of unbroken promises and truthful words, and unfortunately, my world hasn’t always been comprised of unbroken promises and truthful words. So Brian, when I ask you to prove that you love me, to show me, it not because I don’t love you. It’s not because I’m questioning my feelings for you. It’s because boys I’ve known much longer and loved just as deeply have done a devastatingly good job of breaking my heart and sowing the seeds of doubt. I’m sorry, but that just the way it is. I want to be mad at you. I want you to fight for me, but lately, I can’t blame you for not fighting. I’m not really worth fighting for. I would like to think that maybe this isn’t goodbye, but I’m not really sure. I seem to be making you miserable and endangering many things that make you happy. I, myself, am miserable when you ignore me and make me feel unloved and unimportant. Maybe, my dear, we need to accept that like few that have come before you, you make me happy, you make me laugh, and you make my heart beat erratically, but we may never be together. Call it a fluke, a malediction, or just plain bad luck, but maybe you and I were only ever meant to be exposed to Something Beautiful and never truly immersed in it. But I love you, for whatever it’s worth, and thats not going to change anytime soon.

Lastly, I want to end on a positive note. As much as I complained about coming home, there is stil magic in the South. I may not live here anytime soon, but when it comes down to it, I want to settle here. I want my kids to grow up walking around barefoot, driving around backroads, sipping sweet tea on porches, saying, “yes’um”, and falling asleep under a blanket of stars. I love it here. From the oppressive humid heat, the scorch of asphalt on bare feet, the silky feeling of cool lake water to the simple courtesies of holding doors open, being polite, and knowing the kid bagging your groceries, theres a sense of unhurried, unruffled peace here that permeates the air (and our speech). Here, words like faith, family, and love will always be more important than money, importance, and power. Call me old fashioned or call me crazy, but I think smiling at everyone from the mail lady to the next-door neighbors actually makes a difference. Common courtesy is still common here, and hopefully, it always will be. 

First…i know my little ode to Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar was off by a day. Sorry for all y’all out there who are disappointed in me. I know the ides of March is the 15th (Garrett Wright’s Birthday also), but I was super busy and missed it.

Next, today’s title reflects the tone of my life right now. Don’t be mislead, however, one of the defining lines of the song is, “Happiness…feels a lot like sorrow.” props to the Fray for such a weird, paradoxical song. It’s hauntingly beautiful and definitely sad. Give it a listen if you’re confused as the what I mean.

So all y’all might be wondering how i can be sorrowfully happy? Well, I’m still single, and it really does feel like a breath of fresh air. I’m no longer committed to him, but I still care about him and am really trying to be nice to him and remain friends. So thats good I guess, I think we might actually be able to work it out, which is completely amazing. If you would have asked me a week ago, I would have scoffed at the idea that Sammy would like/love/car enough to let me figure out myself and my life for a while. 

Speaking of my life, it is nice to not be responsible to anyone. I actually really enjoyed chilling with John the other day. No boyfriend breathing down my neck and no one to judge me for rebounding just a little. BUT WAIT! As much as I like that Sammy is off my case about other boys (to some degree at least), there is someone I miss cared a little bit more. For the first time this semester, I’m honestly starting to think that stuff won’t magically work out for Brian and I. I mean, hell, this isn’t Huck Finn, everything may not come together nice and neat in the last chapter. I am still hopelessly and torturously in love with him, but I don’t want to chase after something the is moving in the other direction. I would hope that by now I’ve learned (from personal experience, unfortunately) that love can’t be created from thin air…no matter how much you pray and wish for it.

*I have far too belatedly realized this was never completed. My life shall be updated soon. I promise. Sorry y’all*

20. John J. O’Sullivan

Ugh…need to get better at life.