I have been going through some old papers, and I came across a piece of writing I did back in 2001. In some ways, I feel the same. Which is depressing. I guess I thought life would be different. But it's funny how cyclical it is. In the 2001 post I talk about leaving Ohio. Now, (in a few months) I'm leaving Arizona. The nice part about it, though, is that the last line is still the same.
06.03.2001
There's something debilitating about pain. Sometimes you want help; you want comfort. Other times you want to be left alone. Except you never really know which time is which. You could be in the middle of a conversation with someone, and all of the sudden, you decide you need to stop talking. And you wonder how that other person feels. Are you jerking them around? Do they mind that you need them and you don't at the same time? So how do you solve this dilemma? Hide it. Smile. No one is the wiser, but you. Then one day, you're driving in your car and you start crying. And you have no idea why. Or maybe you're watching a show, and someone says something that reminds you of a sadness from years ago, and you can't watch anymore. It sneaks up on you. That is the most frustrating. You can't control the pain. You can ignore it. You can repress it. But it is stronger than you give it credit. It will eventually float to the surface. Sometimes you welcome it. You wrap it around you like an old blanket fresh from the dryer. You get lost. You suffocate.
I have found something I like even less than pain. Loneliness. I'm not sure when it crept into my life. I'm surrounded by people all the time, but I feel so completely alone. I see the way certain people interact, and I'm jealous that I'm not in that situation. I didn't realize how alone I felt until this weekend. I'm in a show, and I've been growing closer with two of my castmates. They are pretty much the same person. Meaning, they do everything together. They know where the other is at all times, etc. This weekend, they invited me to a party, which I ended up not being able to attend. Their invitation struck me so hard. It meant a lot, especially from those two, who rarely let anyone in. But I graduate in a week, and that's that. Sure we can keep in touch, but we all have our busy lives. Sarah is filming a movie, and Tosh is working all the time to earn money to move to another state. We've been in classes together for four years, and one week before we all go our separate ways we come together. In December, I'm moving to the other side of the country. I'm leaving my best friend. I'm leaving my family. I'm moving to a state where I will know only a handful of people. Yes, I will adjust quickly. Yes, I will make new friends. That's what I do best. But there's something completely terrifying about leaving behind everything you've been familiar with your entire life.
What keeps my head above water? Boundless hope.
06.03.2001
There's something debilitating about pain. Sometimes you want help; you want comfort. Other times you want to be left alone. Except you never really know which time is which. You could be in the middle of a conversation with someone, and all of the sudden, you decide you need to stop talking. And you wonder how that other person feels. Are you jerking them around? Do they mind that you need them and you don't at the same time? So how do you solve this dilemma? Hide it. Smile. No one is the wiser, but you. Then one day, you're driving in your car and you start crying. And you have no idea why. Or maybe you're watching a show, and someone says something that reminds you of a sadness from years ago, and you can't watch anymore. It sneaks up on you. That is the most frustrating. You can't control the pain. You can ignore it. You can repress it. But it is stronger than you give it credit. It will eventually float to the surface. Sometimes you welcome it. You wrap it around you like an old blanket fresh from the dryer. You get lost. You suffocate.
I have found something I like even less than pain. Loneliness. I'm not sure when it crept into my life. I'm surrounded by people all the time, but I feel so completely alone. I see the way certain people interact, and I'm jealous that I'm not in that situation. I didn't realize how alone I felt until this weekend. I'm in a show, and I've been growing closer with two of my castmates. They are pretty much the same person. Meaning, they do everything together. They know where the other is at all times, etc. This weekend, they invited me to a party, which I ended up not being able to attend. Their invitation struck me so hard. It meant a lot, especially from those two, who rarely let anyone in. But I graduate in a week, and that's that. Sure we can keep in touch, but we all have our busy lives. Sarah is filming a movie, and Tosh is working all the time to earn money to move to another state. We've been in classes together for four years, and one week before we all go our separate ways we come together. In December, I'm moving to the other side of the country. I'm leaving my best friend. I'm leaving my family. I'm moving to a state where I will know only a handful of people. Yes, I will adjust quickly. Yes, I will make new friends. That's what I do best. But there's something completely terrifying about leaving behind everything you've been familiar with your entire life.
What keeps my head above water? Boundless hope.
posted by a c at
6:12 PM
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