This one is kind of depressing. But honest! (That counts for something, right?)

My last post was a lie, or at least it has become one.  An unintentional lie, but a lie nonetheless.  When I wrote it I felt it—the happiness, the okay-ness, even the freedom of being single—but those feelings disappeared almost as soon as I hit the “Publish” button on my WordPress dashboard and they have only vanished further since.

I’m not sure exactly what sparked this complete change of heart.  On Friday at happy hour at the only good bar in this one-horse town I saw someone I formerly dated (hooked up with? I don’t know what we were) for some time a few years ago, and even though we passed within several feet of each other several times we mutually ignored each other except for some very, very fleeting eye contact.  On Saturday I saw a more recent heartbreak walking somewhere with a girl, and although I knew walking didn’t necessarily mean anything, I couldn’t stop the thoughts: who was that girl and was that his sweatshirt she was wearing (that looks like his sweatshirt!) and how come he has managed to find someone else while I have not and does he touch her the way he touched me?  And on top of all this, I turned in my thesis last week, and despite the fact that that was a real milestone for me, something I’m proud of, I feel bereft, in a way—like the one thing I have been working on all this time, the one thing I’ve really poured my heart into this year, the one dependable thing, is over.  My project was quite a convenient distraction.  Now there is no excuse, nothing to hide behind when I don’t want to think about all the other stuff.  The other stuff being a lack of other stuff, if you get my drift.

There are lots of different kinds of love.  I know—and I feel—that I have a lot of love in my life.  And yet, I still find myself wanting, time and time again.  Sometimes it’s a physical want, and sometimes, like now, it’s a heaviness, a deepness somewhere, a weight I can’t place but feel just the same.

In some ways, I can’t imagine a man falling in love with me.  I see couples and I can’t fathom being a part of one in a way that feels right (whatever “right” means).  And I can, too, but it often feels impossible, too far away to reach.  Does that make sense?  In high school I hoped I’d find it in college, and now I’m hoping I’ll find it post-graduation.  There’s a lot of hope involved, really.  I’m banking on it not running out before something good comes of it.


4 thoughts on “This one is kind of depressing. But honest! (That counts for something, right?)

  1. K says:

    In times of struggle such as these, I remember those fateful words that came to us only a few short months ago: You are filled with life’s most precious treasure… Hope!

    I’m starting to resent those words. I don’t want to be filled with hope, I want to be filled with excitement and anticipation and joy. Is that really too much to ask after all these years?

  2. Blair says:

    Oh man. This got me. Honesty definitely counts for something.

    Now that I look back, I think I may have been too glib before when writing about love. Because obviously there is another side, and that side is heartbreak, and that side hurts. At least, I think it hurts, because I don’t know personally. I didn’t find someone so much as trip over him. I have fallen in love exactly once and I am still IN love and my heart is still very intact.

    And yet I don’t know my own resilience because I’ve never had to test it out. Am I lucky? Am I naïve? Am I rambling on about my own life when I should be relating more to yours? Probably yes.

    But if feeling the sudden void-in-your-life of heartbreak is anything like what it is in my imagination, then I’m damned impressed that you’ve got hope left. You go.

    • Can I “like” this?

      But–I don’t think you were too glib! I think what you wrote is so beautiful, and if anything it renews my hope, because there are boyfriends and sisters out there that do those things. (And to think, they went to my high school…) There *is* a lot of love in the world (oh God, I’m on the verge of quoting “Love Actually”), and it’s important and valuable to be able to recognize it.

      AND while you may be lucky I don’t think you’re naïve–I think that you’re you, that your experiences are your experiences. AND AND my hunch is that your resilience has been tested, probably in more ways than you realize. (What about all those years before you fell in love? Those count.)

      Thanks for the kind words.

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