I've Been Thinking Again. Sorry.
I’ve discovered the oddest thing, and though it may just be my fancy that persuades me to believe this idea, I’m compelled… I meet people, and something clicks into place, like we’re puzzle pieces that have long been separated, lost under the couch, forgotten and dusty. Sometimes I can’t decide what in them draws me, or what it is in me that draws them, yet the connection cannot be denied. It’s even more intriguing when the connection is beyond words, or perhaps merely not touched by words. Justin and I, for example (yes, I’m using you because I think you’ll understand me), may never be able to say exactly what we are, but it’s implicitly understood (unless I miss my guess) that we’re connected. Neither one of us is eager to make any promises, yet requests aren’t denied, advice is gently yet firmly dispensed, and we’ll always listen to each other if we need someone to listen…I’m being separated from people I’ve grown attached to, and I feel like a spoiled child whose favorite toys are being wrenched from her grasp. Perhaps even worse are the instances where people were just outside of my grasp. I wasted time, and now there’s nothing I can do. The “what if” is even more haunting than the person who fades from view as time goes on. This has happened continuously since I arrived here at the college, but this semester was different. This was the first time I met and bonded with people without fear… The connections are cleaner, freer… Stronger. “Hold on… Hold on to yourself For this is gonna hurt like hell…”
On the upside, I’ll have almost a month to sort out my own head, which will be welcome compared to the near-mania I’m in right now. It’s sort of hard to say this, but I almost feel like I’ve been surrounding myself with people to keep my mind from saying things I don’t want to address. “Yeah, I’m confused, tired, unsure of myself, hurting, scared, lost and wandering. Shut up. I don’t have time to deal with this. Look, I must be fine. Look how much I can handle! Look, they’re all clamoring for my attention! My phone rings off the hook, I’m not even able to keep up with half of my friends; I must be doing something right!”
But no. My head, heart, and body all know better. I can feel the stress. Taste the fear. Breathe the worry, when I breathe at all. “One more week, darlin’,” he said, and I almost cried. “Yeah, just one more week, I repeated to myself, “and then I can sort out my own head. I’ll get my room clean, call people back, discuss the issues, allow myself to cry, hard, as I finger the breaks and cracks that have recently decorated my heart. I’m not supposed to feel pain, not really. I have it so easy… I don’t like feeling like a wimp, but denying my feelings isn’t going to help, either. I need food, sleep, and solitude, none of which I’m allowing myself these days. I’m ignoring my basic needs because I can’t cope. God, even in simply admitting that, I feel so much better. First I admit that something’s wrong, and that it stems from within, not without; secondly, I allow myself to feel; thirdly, I address and correct the issues and/or situations.
*sighs* It works.
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