a happy ending

Aqualung ‘Pressure Suit’

I’m guilty of it too–Carrie Bradshaw is the Chuck Norris for girls, and I’ve subscribed to her life teachings and dramatic exchanges for awhile now. If something goes wrong, you nod or shake your head, appropriately, because you’ve been there. So there I was, coffee on the stand, laptop at my fingertips, chronicling my slow romantic decline. Every story was another piece in a puzzle I couldn’t, and wouldn’t see the picture to, something I didn’t even try to understand.

Then again, maybe there are happy endings. I realized on the last ride home with Auto, that I couldn’t make someone love me. You can’t help who you love, you’re not supposed to, I’ve always said, and now, turned back on me, I couldn’t make him love me. And aside from that, is that the way I wanted it to go??–someone who loves me because they should? This whole time I’ve fulfilled an obligation, dishing out my affection in compliance with a silent duty I’d made up for myself, aware my work was charity, and would go unrecognized. I was doing neither of us a favour. Of course, I hesitated slightly at the thought of letting him go, before I realized I wasn’t walking away from him. He was never there in the first place so I had nothing to turn my back on. If it was performance, I should’ve gotten the hook long ago. Taking pause should be just that–a momentary doubt before moving on; I was loitering. Just go. A liberating feeling, releasing yourself from a fog.

I did just that. I took a deep breath and stepped out into the sun. I may have fallen, but the bumps and bruises along the way slowed me down, and look where I landed…a new beginning. I’m smiling again, a refreshing balance where the good outweighs the bad. Even if there was no one new to induce the feeling, I’d be headed in a good direction. And what a feeling it is.

give a hand

Gavin Rossdale ‘Love Remains the Same’

Watching Sex and the City movie tonight, my nerves rubbed raw from all the women in the theatre clapping, I did realize, however, that excitement, romance, friends…things day-to-day and sometimes, somehow overlooked, should be celebrated.

for future reference

Anberlin ‘Hello Alone’

There were words right there………dammit. On the tip of my tongue, but engulfed in air, gasps, and swallowed back down, I lost my nerve and the opportunity.  A lesson I should learn–speak first, think later. Normally one’s advised on the contrary, but my case is one of extremes.

I’m not going to screw you over. There. But…of course the words are lost here, and somehow not lost at all on him (he still awaits one of my nicknames), but…that doesn’t stop me from staying mum.

So I’m scared, I’ll admit. When do we start really feeling any different? Scared we’ll end up alone. No longer alone, scared they’ll leave you. Committed, scared you’ll lose touch, break connection. It never ends. Feeling safe teetering on the edge of a new reality should be comfort enough for me, given my past, and in the here-and-now it is, but terrifies me to no end regardless. Rush? I could. Crawl? Waiting for someone who fits so well has been a long time coming, I’d rather fly. Know better? Of course. Help myself? Of course not.

One returned glance and smile, and I was done.

misery vs company

If I wasn’t so turned around and pleased, I’d hate myself in this state of optimism. Ever notice how being unhappy is condusive to a free-flow of words, thoughts, ideas? There’s always more to expound upon when you’re in that terrible state you love to hate.

I’m not without words, but they’re all foreign enough to be another language. Self-loathing and denial is my native tongue, so shifting tone may take extra effort. It’s worth trying on for size.

beginnings

There’s soon to be a new addition to our family. No, not a drunken blunder with Auto. It’s not me. My sister, in her awkward but dead-on way sat on my sky-blue sheets and dead-panned it. Another little her? Or will we be painting the room the colour of my bedding? There’s a funny smile, and I break the tension with jokes and congratulations.

possibly possible

Thrice ‘Atlantic’

Frightening to think of change. Even in the ’self torture’ I’ve been accused of and accepted, I found a comforting niche, moved in, and settled. Now the unclear boundaries I decided (somewhat) quite recently in fact, I could no longer abide by, are still notted around my neck. There’s no point in dramatics, in announcing the finality of the situation, and it would only pour salt in my fresh wound. On the other hand, my weak will doesn’t allow me to not. Over the past year and change, I’ve often asked myself why?, only to retort back why not?. Nothing’s good, but nothing’s horribly wrong either.

If you had love, without the favour returned, or you had a wonderful, fledgeling opportunity, you’d scornfully insist on walking away and never looking back. Is it that easy? If ‘firsts’ were foreshadowing (which in over-analysis is feasible) then I’ll gladly accept my fault and foolishness, and embrace the new-found romanticism wholly.

How do you kill what-if when it’s already been killed for you, handed over for you to mourn and move on? Easy? Then it’s never happened to you.

crash tests

U2 ‘If God Will Send His Angels’

The Autumn or Spring are most usefully spent continuing my educational exploration. Basically, I’m not ravaging my body with chemo anymore, and it’s time to get back to having a life outside clock-watching retail management. I can settle, I’m used to it. I don’t mind not doing something I love, but I’d prefer something I like. Selling shirts and selling short isn’t top priority anymore. I wondered when I’d hit a wall, and I see it speeding into sight.

mrs. tonight

‘I should have said it but tell me just what has it ever meant’

Silence is golden.

MC Solaar ‘La Belle et la Bad Boy’

I’ll be attending my first wedding later on this summer, and as excited as I am for her, all I can think about is divorce rates. See, we search for someone we can really connect with. If we’ve any sense at all we’ll hold onto them, have and hold, marry and grow old with. Most of us wander blind without that, let it slip by, or have our grip ripped free. In the event we are those lucky two, we’re still alone–our chance (and circumstance, eh?) will certainly end us the survivor, old and alone again. There’s no getting around it.

‘Nobody wins when everyone’s losing.’

On a brighter note, it’s sometimes all I want. I’ve delved into the subject before–wanting to get hitched–and though the nostalgia of the thought has worn off, the void has, in fact, grown, and leaves me wondering if I should write the whole idea off, wish my bride-friend ’til death happiness, and have another glass of wine. Sometimes I strive for something unreal, especially in times like these. Realism has always been my strong suit, mentally, artistically, emotionally…but somehow I’ve lost my touch lately. I could blame Auto, but……………who doesn’t make their own troubles. I’ll take the hit on that one. A rebellious side wouldn’t half mind perusing a small section of the population, blocking out all the sounds, save the late-hour sighs. Perhaps I can have still have those vows, if only the rest of the night, not the rest of my life.

guilt, depression, acceptance, hope

grief is for those we’ve lost for good, but not necessarily reserved for the death of a loved one. It’s the reflection you need when someone pushes you away but keeps a grip on you. There’s a tearing indecision–should I stay or should I go?–even when the option no longer remains, or ever did. There’s a guilty wave, a sinking feeling that pulls you down with a longing you can’t articulate properly to the sane world, and then, if you’re lucky, a release, and a way back out. It will never be the same, letting go, leaving, being left alone, and the memories, the similarities and sting of differences (we call that missing, right?). One wonders why we put ourselves through it after the first time, and why we insist upon it over and over, knowing the end of the experiment before we begin the trials and tests. It’s that hope we’re born with, pushing us into the life ahead of us, even if some of us is left behind with the death of the past.

fun and games

Placebo ‘Blind’

If you stop betting you never have to lose. It doesn’t take long to figure that out, but it does to accept it. Someone in society long ago decided that awful feeling you get isn’t tolerable, that there’s something wrong with being a loser. Honestly, it’s easiest and least detrimental most of the time to bow out. If your situation was tug o’ war, you’re best off to drop the rope before the other end gets dropped and you go flying back on your ass. The humiliation will last longer than the pain, but think of it as aversion therapy. If it was poker, you’re best to fold than bet it all–reading faces and betting everything you’re worth will leave you losing more than just money or time. If your situation was just pure fun, well, it’s not. Nothing’s that simple.

If it was dominoes…we all know what happens after the first one falls over.