They haven't been going so well, things - mornings, nights, classes, conversations, timing, attention, hopes, dreams. But, c'est la vie, way it goes, and life is a biorythmic cycle that only goes as high up as it sinks low. So you make allowances, and you plan for the worst, which despite the cliche must including ridding yourself of all that mistaken, forsaken hope for the best.
Unfortunately, such a task is impossible. Our emotions rule us; perhaps not our actions, but definitely our thoughts. Even if you are strong enough to say goodbye for good in the physical world, you will be haunted in waking or sleeping visions of things that once were, or will now never be, or no longer be. The vibrant hues of real memory, genuine circumstance, become twisted and false - shockingly bright; despairingly gray.
In time, their grip will lessen, of course. This is the reassurance of those who love you, the single defense in their arsenal. In time. "Time will heal all wounds." But they can't, so you really just wish they would go away and leave you trapped here in timelessness, sinking in your own eternal misery.
Sinking, and drifting, and floating, the point is that nothing grounds you and you exist in an area devoid of substance. Nothing to grip, nothing to hold you. Perhaps a few fleeting grasps at the beginning, but they just fade away and it just seems best to let them after a little while.
How can they call this misery? How can they call it despair? I don't feel anything so bad as all that, floating along in this little bubble of softness...well, maybe it isn't soft, but it certainly isn't hard, and maybe it isn't warm but it doesn't make me shiver inside. And it's dark, but there are no boogiemen to worry about, and no heartbreakers either. Having nothing around means there is nothing bad.
Not the best of places, certainly not the healthiest, and of course nowhere fit for long-term settlement, but a temporary comfort. A thumb to suck, a blankie, an imaginary friend - in the acceptable mental form instead of physical displays of "neurosis" and "psychosis."
I wanted to walk without seeing, to go along without using my head for a little while in order to clear it. I know better than anyone else that the past month has been pure overreaction on my part, but knowing that doesn't change any of my feeling on the matter. Using the almighty logic and rationalization I have even been able to discover what I am bothered about.
It's not saying goodbye - that's no novelty. The difference was that, for whatever reason, I actually cared this time. Emotion played a part again.
it was at that moment that it hit me. for the first time, I regretted having said goodbye and not looking back. because for the first time, I missed him. sure, everything would have been the same - a futile, awful endeavor that maybe hurt me more than this does now. but to get that smile...to have him look at me again the way he did before things fell apart...I would have taken everything back.
No. Ignore it, ignore it, it goes away. Our imaginary friends die when we don't believe in them, and we can conquer our emotions if we only stop acknowledging them. No physical signs, no mental preoccupations. Just stand up and wipe your eyes because the heater is putting some weird shit out into the air, damnit, and take a walk.
And open the door, and put one foot in front of the other, and look up and he is there. Not standing there because he's not in the area for you (never was, of course, that was the only problem), but walking by and not past you yet and you can't help but look because that's where you were looking anyway and you attempt a fake smile or a purposeful sneer but all you can do is look and you know that your eyes are showing that your heart has been broken but can still be broken just a little bit more by this chance encounter and after a split second you drop your eyes because you can manage to hide those fucking heater tears then.
And then it's over and you're walking past and putting distance between yourself and what just happened and then you realize that this one thing on top of everything else is just too much, and you try to escape from those goddamned things. A bus to the bus station.
You're breathing normally now, and your eyes have stopped darting around in that weird way. You have found the greatest comfort, something tangible (forget that time bullshit) - which is that you might not be able to control your emotions but you can control your life.
You can't control your mind's response to a situation, but you can avoid the situation. It's not running away. It's taking charge of things, and that is really all you need.