Tuesday, May 25, 2010

confused, maybe.

It's frustrating when you realize that people's perceptions of you are not really you at all, but someone other than you. For some reason they impute a personality to you that isn't true, that is based on weird assumptions and quick judgments. I feel judged here, I feel like people don't know who I am and thus act toward me like someone I'm not. There's no reason to treat me like a Mean Girl; I'm not one.

In all social situations it's common for me to feel baffled at the people who end up having the biggest following. Why you? What's so special about this person? What do you all see in him, or her, and what am I missing? Perhaps it's just an aspect of my personality not to be too keen on those who sell themselves out to be close to everyone in sight. I don't think it's possible to be honest with yourself and with others and still be 'friends' with everyone in a given social situation, especially the ones with a large number of people.

Anyway, is it too negative to say I don't like all that many people on this trip? I feel like I'm poisoning the well, like I'm rushing to these judgments myself, but it's so hard to stay open while constantly feeling slighted. Not that I'm exactly feeling slighted, but I am in the sense that so few of these people I actually want to spend any amount of time with. So many are so...young and obnoxious. That's it, most of them are younger than me, like much younger, and are interested in using this experience as a chance to bond over drinks and treat the city and country as their own playground. Which is fine, you do you, right? I'm having a hard time understanding that motivation. I feel like such an old person, I'd rather stay home and blog to everyone so my people at home know what's happening here than go out drinking with these kids. KIDS. That's what they are. The girl downstairs was born in 1989, she's still in undergrad. Wow. Like...that's fine, but she's younger than my little sister, you know? I'm just not interested in a 21 year old's perspective on life. I had it once, it sucked and it was boorish and immature, and I'd rather not waste my precious brain cells getting hammered with them.

On the flip side of that thought, though, is realizing how much these younger kids are teaching me about being confident and forward with your own thoughts and opinions and selves, and how little experience I have actually doing this. It's hard for me, based on my past history and also the family and culture in which I was raised - it was very much stressed not to do this, not to make waves, not to call people out. The unfortunate consequence of hiding behind politeness, however, is that you get stepped on, and taken advantage of, and passed up. You stay unnoticed in many situations because you're perceived as too flimsy, or malleable. As much as we're not (my family and I), as I've pointed out above, so much of the time the reality doesn't matter if your image across the group is one of being a flake or a needy, clingy person with no opinions.

I'm feeling really homesick; well, not homesick. People sick. I'm really learning to appreciate my people, the incredible friends and amazing boyfriend and family that I have. You ladies and gents are standing out, your sense of humor, your loyalty and kindness. Apparently (and of course, I should know this by now, but I was trying to have a positive attitude going into this experience) almost no one has these qualities, at least not together, all in one. So many just bitchy people (and I don't mean just girls). So many people I can literally say "I don't like you" about. It's incredible. Maybe it's because we've been forced to work so intimately with each other, that these differences are stark and really burdensome, whereas in most situations you just associate as little as possible with the people you find disagreeable. That's just not possible here. Many of us live in the same household, and those of us who don't see each other and work together every day anyway due to the orientation and our weekend activities.

Funny, too, I haven't had the urge to go out at night, or drink, at all. I don't know why, usually I really enjoy socializing and drinking with the people that I'm with; maybe that's a comment on my age? Or the seriousness of our jobs here? Or just my opinions of the people with whom I'd be drinking? I'm not exactly sure; perhaps it's a combination of all of them. That's more likely, I think. Not to give the impression there's no one here who's fun or kind or sympathetic; there certainly are. Luckily for me, most of the people who will be staying in Chiang Mai and living in my home with me are part of this minority. There are a few I'd rather not stay here, but the majority of the interns staying in Thailand are definitely the most pleasurable to be around. And the lack of alcohol has really helped my body and mind, I can already tell my memory is improving. There's definitely something to be said for a cleaner lifestyle, although a few beers or glasses of wine here or there with my friends (at home) and the Pirate sometimes just hits the spot.

I just wanted to let you all know I'm missing you, even though I'm happy to be here and glad to be doing what I am and will be doing this summer. I was meant to do it for a reason, I know that; sometimes it's just easier to get caught up being homesick. This has turned out to be a fantastic lesson in working closely with detestable people, and learning to cope with really strong personalities and people whose opinions are shouted over the crowds at every possible point. It's interesting to see another culture too, to be immersed in it, as much as we are. Living in a local neighborhood, working so closely with Thai people, learning the language. It's everything. It makes me appreciate home, but at the same time I couldn't imagine not being here.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

time

I'm feeling the desire to reconnect with my tried and true blog readers. Whenever I have an empty minute I've been concerned with updating the Thai blog, so the wider audience knows what's happening, and so you can all feel like you're on the ride with me, like I'm not so far away, like the distance is more just a silly construct rather than an actual barrier separating us.

I think things here are getting better. New situations, they always take a while to get acclimated to, especially in situations such as these which are almost entirely composed of moving pieces, some as fickle as humans. The weather continues to be oppressive, but the food is absolutely delicious. Oh shit! Here I am reporting on Thailand...I wonder how I'm going to do this separation.

See, I would like to use this blog more as a journal, which was my original intention, and thus I've limited the audience to my friends, the Pirate, and my family. The problem is, there's some stuff I only want me to know and think and acknowledge, right? Although I'm warming up to the idea of sharing a large portion of my life, reporting on it like a journalist and even letting others know my inner thoughts, which isn't a habit that comes naturally to me, I still would like to keep some things private. You have to have your own stuff, I think. Your entire life can't be an open book, exposed to all for criticism and review; the more eyes that see it, the less you have for yourself. Maybe? Maybe that's not right. Maybe that's the mistaken assumption I've internalized that has kept me from being able to be close with most people in my life.

I'm trying to take everything as it comes, not rush it, not force it, not feel bad about things not progressing the way I'd like them to. It all works out eventually, with or without your stress and worry and frustration. Which is easy to say when I'm feeling alright. Another day, I'll say to hell with it and momentarily give up on the whole bit.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

trembling; on the verge

I thought I was braver than this. I considered myself more of a pioneer. I assumed I was the trailblazer, not the follower, not the scared one who hides behind in need of a shield from the foreign, the new, or the just plain unknown. The things I don't understand.

But I don't feel brave. I feel small and scared. I feel defeated already, and I haven't even really yet begun. Yes, that's exactly it: I feel defeated. Like my presence on this trip is pointless, like why did I even bother screwing everything up for this? I haven't even given myself a chance to try yet. Why? Why do I do this? Why do I concede failure when I've yet to break from the gate?

Things never start the way I think they should, they NEVER do. I should learn this, learn it, breathe it, be with it. Everything is ultimately fine. The Universe is protecting me somewhere, behind the scenes, underneath the haze; it wouldn't have propelled me on this journey for no reason. Maybe I should start by clarifying my goals for this trip.

I want to learn to be an advocate.
I want to spend a good amount of time in a very foreign country.
I want to make friends outside of the context of law school, but in a law-related function.
I want to be an adult. I want to grow into an adult.

I think many people perceive me as one, the problem is, I don't. And my approach to the world is colored by the fact that I don't, for some reason, truly believe I deserve the respect of other adults as their peer. So I'm always looking for a mentor. Always searching out a big brother or big sister to carry me under their wing, to protect me, to shade me from the harsher bits of reality. But no! I've done so much on my own, why can't this actuality seep into my perception of myself?

My guess is that I put too much emphasis on what others think, or, even more wobbly and perplexing, what I perceive their thoughts of me to be. I'm too sensitive to social signals, too cognizant of others' minor body language and the cutting aim of their ambiguous words. On purpose? To fancy myself a victim? I don't see how that suits me, except that it acts as its own ceiling on what I can and cannot do - what in reality is what I will and will not let myself try at, either to succeed and move up, or fail. It's frustrating, this reaction. I'm afraid to do what in my heart I know I really want to do. I've cut a path already and can't diverge from it. I can make myself happy in the -to be honest - mediocre life I'm in the process of creating. Why should I, though? Somewhere, at some point, I have to stop stopping myself, I have to cease acting solely as my nemesis and start believing in and nurturing my abilities. I have to begin taking actual risks, rather than things that just appear to be risks. What does this mean, though? What do I have to do?

Maybe this is part of the challenge of this time in Thailand. To see what I'm really about. I thought I knew; I get shaken, and it turns out I don't. Who am I? What am I doing; why; and am I happy doing it?

I feel lost.

Friday, May 14, 2010

leaving

Okay, I realized today that anything that might be destroyed or undermined or weakened during my absence will likely be a product of my own (un)doing. Like assuming things that aren't real. Or projecting my feelings onto someone else. I'm already doing it, but I'm trying to recognize it for what it is and diffuse it. Unwind it. Expose it and let it go. I'm trying to have faith in the feelings of my friends and my Pirate, I'm trying my best to believe. Believe. What's so difficult about having a little faith? I don't know, the shit is hard to handle though. Like a bird you're trying to cage, something like that. It would rather just have the window open, ready to escape when necessary, but all you want to do is lock it up and shut it in. Make it safe. Keep it real.

I have lots of things to say, so much so I don't even know where to begin. I don't feel like I'm living my life. I don't feel like I'm living someone else's though, it's quite a conundrum. I don't really know what I'm doing. Drifting, floating, waiting. I'm about to be shot out of a catapult though, bolted ahead a few steps and plopped into so many new situations. I think my brain needs the challenge though, I've dulled it with the regular, and the ordinary, and the predictable. I need the new, the different, the incomprehensible. I forgot so much of what I love. I spoke to it, but didn't do it. The Pirate's uncle told me, "this isn't something you're getting out of your system, like everyone seems to think. This is you." I hope he's right. I don't want to be normal. I don't want to do what so many people do. I've always wanted to be extraordinary, I've always been a little off-kilter. We spend so much time and energy, though, trying to do what's expected, seeking to be the normal, looking for our place in line, it's hella (heyooo NorCal) easy to lose what we used to want to be. I used to sport this bumper sticker on my old red Volvo (Sylvia) that said
'remember what you wanted to be'. Even when I was 16 I could see this being an issue. Hopefully this trip reignites that need in me, I don't want to lose it. I want to keep going. I want to keep digging. I don't want to be ordinary; strangely, that thought frightens me more than most things.

I'll keep you posted. I can't believe I'm leaving! It came! The day is finally here. It makes me hyperventilate a little, but I'm happy to be going. Too much anticipation is killer. I need to just do it.

Monday, May 10, 2010

speech!

So, I normally refrain buying into the mass graduation hysteria and hype that comes every year around this time. Even my own graduations never seemed very important to me. I don't know, is it not the process that really matters?

That said, I can never turn away from a good graduation speech. There aren't very many, in my opinion, but every once in a while a speaker will just WOW me with short, often simple and common sensical, snippets of wisdom that just work.

Here are some excerpts from Steve Jobs' commencement speech at Stanford in 2005. Consider me WOWed.

"Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life."

"You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle."

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

"Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish."

Because, yes. Sometimes that's just it. Yes. I'm taking it. I hope it strikes someone else as much as it did me today.

The things that are good for you get better with time, they don't erode. That's my favorite part. I've hardly lived enough conscious, understanding life to really be able to see this in practice, but I believe I'm witnessing it in progress in a few areas of my life, and it's true. Why wouldn't the real things just grow the longer you're with them? And why should the flimsy stuff not weaken with time, too? It just makes good sense. Maybe some things will surprise me.

I'm thinking soon is a good day to take up the ukulele. This will be my next short-term goal.

soon

I leave on Wednesday morning at 7:30am. Today is Monday.

It's coming, I'm feeling nervous and excited. I want to leave, so I can return. That makes sense, right? The sooner I leave, the sooner I can come back. The sooner I can embrace biff and my Pirate. The sooner I can re-fall in love with my city.

My visa came. The Royal Thai Embassy went to work and processed it in a day. One day! Which they said they were too busy to do. Assholes, they were the root of so much frustration and stress and tears. So I have it now; I guess I'm going for real. That was really the last thing that could have stopped me from taking the trip, and now that potential impediment is gone. I'm going. I'm going! It doesn't even feel real, I cannot comprehend that one week from today will be my first day of work in Chiang Mai. How impossible! How crazy.

Now that it's basically inevitable, it feels more doable. Trying to understand exactly what I was embarking on was an insurmountable feat even a week ago. Did I get through the hardest part? Hmm, I'm thinking probably no. But that was the first hard part, maybe. We survived. We weathered it. We stayed together, no one has left yet. No one has turned away. Only one more final and two more nights of snuggling, one more meeting with all my friends, and I fly away.

It's only 12 weeks. That's what I'm saying to myself. It's only 12 weeks. 12 weeks. 12 weeks. And worth it. It will be worth it. I needed to go, I had to explore and see and risk and experience. I traded freedom and independence for love and friendship; this trip is a test to see if I can have both. Why can't we have both? I want it all. I think, sometimes, if you ask the universe for what you want, it figures out a way to get it to you. It opens up a space for you to claim it yourself, you just have to ask. You have to inquire, check into it. So I am. Universe, can I manage friendship and biff-dom and soul mateness with traveling, exploring, staying open to the new and dangerous and scary and risky, all at the same time?

I'll keep you apprised of the answer(s). How can you know unless you do it?

Often, I find myself feeling thankful that life doesn't allow me to back out of things. Like the passage of time: days breaking upon days unfolding on more days. Because sometimes I think if life didn't compel itself onward, I wouldn't have the strength to do it. Mechanically wind the days every morning. How tempting it would be to just stay, to remain. When it's working, it's hard to want it to change. If I had the opportunity to back out, I'm not sure if I would still be going; so I'm glad it's not an option. I have to go. I knew that when I sat biff down last fall and told her, do not let me not do this. Please. Hold me to it. And she did. And I'm doing it. Even though she suffers for it, she was my eyes when I didn't want to see what I needed. Pirate was my legs when I didn't feel like I could stand, when I wanted to sit down in the middle of my life and stay there, pretending to be happy. I love you both so much, I don't know what I would have, or could have, ever do without you. What I would have done. You are me, without you I'm sure I would have visible leaks and holes. Everyone deserves that, everyone deserves what I was lucky enough to find. You just have to ask the universe for it. Ask it for what you want. And remember to aim high.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

okay

My Pirate says I repeat things a lot, and he's totally right. When I'm trying to convince myself of something I tend to think it over and over and over again, or I will say it aloud ad nauseum, trying force the belief into my head that whatever it is is, of course, true. Today I just want to remind myself, I'm trying to dig a trench in my mind that lights up when I'm feeling insecure about leaving, that just says, "it's okay it's okay it's okay." I hope it is; I want more than anything for this to be true. It will be okay, it will be okay, it will be okay. Everything is fine. Nothing is really at risk.

I think the truth is somewhere in between my catastrophic thinking and this repetitive mantra. Most things are probably going to be okay, that's true. But some things are at risk, I'm exposing some things to destruction or rip tides, being undermined from the bottom, being torn away piece by piece from underneath. I'm trying to keep it in perspective; I feel like, if I aim high, if I aim for everything is fine, everything will be okay, maybe I'll fall somewhere in between total obliteration and peace. Which, I think, is the best I can do at the moment. At least that's a marked improvement from Monday, when my heart was breaking and I couldn't stop falling. When I felt like everything was already lost, and I couldn't catch my breath.

As an aside, has anyone noticed this weird trend about people not fastening their flies? I've been seeing it at an increasing and frankly alarming rate recently. Are all these people unaware that their pants are unbuttoned or unzipped? Or is it intentional? What leads me to believe it's become a new fashion statement is it seems to be a predominant practice among hipster-type folk, or at least these are the people who supposedly keep forgetting to close their flies. I don't get it; what a strange way to proclaim identification with a group.

That's a little off topic, but I've been wondering about it for a while. I keep seeing it more and more.

I keep experiencing waves of sadness. Sadness and numbness, they alternate. Yesterday I felt happy for the first time in almost a week; the problem with this, though, is that it's tinged with melancholy because I soon won't have it within reach for at least three months, I hope that's all. I hope three months is as long as the separation lasts. I hope we can stay so much connected that it's hardly a separation at all. I hope to build mature and eternal communication skills that buffer the Pirate and I, and my friendships, from any subsequent parting. I'm sad. I just want it to hurry up and come already, so I can focus on getting back and holding my love and laughing with my friends again. Like it never happened. Like we were hardly apart. Please please please let this be the result. Please let this summer be a good thing. Please don't turn it into something I'll regret.

I already miss everyone so much, I can hardly even recognize that I'm with my friends or my love when we're together. It's as if, somewhere in my mind, I've already left. I have to close myself off to the experience of now or else I'll be so overwhelmed by grief about my departure (in 6 days!) I will, doubtless, break down in tears. I feel as if I'm in a daze; I know I've numbed myself to the point where the usual things about life in which I find snippets of pleasure and gratitude can't even prompt a smile. I just want to leave so I can come back. Every day I'm here that inches closer to May 12 feels all the more heartbreaking. I am vulnerable and exposed. I've taken to wearing my sunglasses indoors so people can't tell when I've momentarily begun crying, without any provocation whatsoever.

I want to go home, but home is you, home is my people, and I can't come back until I leave. So I have to leave. Please stay by my side. Please don't leave while I'm gone.

"Let me go home, I'm just too far from where you are, I wanna come home. Maybe surrounded by a million people I still feel all alone; I wanna go home. Oh I miss you, you know....And I know just why you couldn't come along with me: this was not your dream, but you always believed in me."

I miss you I miss you I miss you all. I'M JUST TOO FAR FROM WHERE YOU ARE.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

getting heavy

I'm really trying to stay positive. One day at a time, she says. One day at a time.

But it's getting heavy.



I can handle things one day at a time. Like an addict. I suppose I am in a way, addicted to my life and my people here. I have to slowly undo the stitching linking my heart to theirs. I have to quietly back away from the situation so that I refrain from leaving a vacuum to be immediately filled. I have to stage a neutral exit so that I can easily slip back in, where I want to be, when I return.

The problem is, I'm not quiet. I'm not neutral, and I'm not slow. I'm impatient and rowdy and angry and loud, I want to scream and cry and fight the approaching date of my departure, one week from today. I want to straightjacket myself and my love together, so he believes I won't stray. So I stop myself from leaving while I'm away.

Last time I came back from three months abroad, everything was different. My friends had moved on. My person had preempted me. I had even less than I started with; I suppose the root of my fear of leaving my people is feeling those feelings again. It was different though, I have to remember to use my lawyer skills and distinguish between then and now. The people are different, the relationships are different. I'm counting on the outcome being different, too, or else this may be a group of decisions and a period in my life that will never shed the taint of regret, no matter how great the experience.

(I don't need people to be strong, I need to know how you feel. I'm feeling, I want to know how you feel too, so I know it's real, we're real, and things will probably be alright. I don't need a tall tree; I need to see you feeling my loss.)

One problem I always have when looking ahead to an upcoming journey is my debilitating fear of flying. I can't get excited for a trip when the date is within a few weeks, because all I can think about is how there won't be any adventure if the plane doesn't make it. This anxiety is quadrupled in this case due to the sheer number of flights separating me from the beginning of my internship: five. FIVE FLIGHTS. Five planes, five crews, five take-offs and landings. Five different times things can go seriously wrong. Five is a lot. My plane anti-anxiety meds have begun to lose their effect, as I can no longer sleep all the way through any flight, and thus spend the last few hours with my hands cemented to the armrests, my heart racing racing racing trying to escape my ribcage, and my jaw locked in terror. I've grabbed a good number of arms of nearby travelers during turbulence (when I was 16, alone on a flight back from Germany, I met a very handsome Kiwi this way, so it's not all bad). I'm pretty convinced that, if ever anything dire did happen on one of my flights, it would be while I was taking a pee in the restroom, also out of which I'm convinced the floor could fall out at any moment, especially while I am the occupant. As biff and I always say, if it's going to happen at all, it's going to happen to you.

So many irrational thoughts about flying. It's terribly unfortunate, too, because I adore traveling. I just have to drug myself up to the point where others perceive me as a lobotomy victim before I can board the plane, and then just keep swallowing the meds until right before we land. It's easier flying with someone, especially my Pirate. Because I can grab him anytime I want, with no weird stares or calling of flight attendants to report the touchy, drooling woman in 16B. Because, just as irrationally, my mind thinks he can save me from any dangerous situation that might arise while we're flying. Or at least we'd be together if he couldn't.

I'm trying to repeat, rinse, repeat this song, It's only fear by Alexi Murdoch. I'm scared. I knew this was why I needed to go on this trip, too. I'm losing my edge. I wavered, for a second, but still. For so much of my near-adult and adult life, I've fancied myself someone who could and would pick up everything in a second when adventure presented itself. Thinking about it now, I think much of that impulse and bravery had more to do with having so little to lose, rather than being an awesome character trait of mine. Thus, now that I feel like I have so much, in quantity and quality, to lose, it's not as easy, or painless. And I questioned it. And now I'm questioning it more. Yes, assuming the people at the Thai Embassy decide to go to work for a few hours this week, I'll get my visa, and I'll be going. Even if the plane tickets weren't purchased, I'm almost positive I'd still be going. But it just feels heavier this time. It feels heavy, it's more burdensome. It's a good time to learn that everything costs something, I guess. One of many, many truths I'm sure to be discovering out there on my own.

There's fear there too, in what will change in me. We don't know what we know until it's tested; and what a test I've subjected my life to! I picture a colander: I'm pouring my life through the holes to see what makes it out on the other side. I am looking for the holes. Seeing what's worn out, seeing what fits in, seeing what's solid enough to make it through the journey. I worry about what won't be there. I worry about who will be missing from the end pile, from the result, from my life when I come back. I worry about what will have warped in the process, what will have made it only in pieces, what will get stuck in the holes.



"There's far too many questions to ask, to answer any of them tonight. Confusion casts a shadow upon me, like a great big cloud in the sky. And now I pray for rain, because it's been so long since I let myself cry."

Monday, May 3, 2010

never/nothing

This is everything I want to say to you, you, that I can't. Or that I've already said to no avail. All I want is for you to understand, but you don't. You can't or you don't want to, I haven't decided.

For various reasons, I have to start with this song. Of course it's the song of today, listen: "Nine times out of ten, our hearts just get dissolved. Well I want a better place, or just a better way to fall."

I'm really uncomfortable right now because my entire life is wrapped up in the generosity of someone else, and I really don't like to rely on others to such an extreme degree. It's too much. I don't want it all there, it means I don't have a choice. It means I'm indebted to someone else; it means he has control over me. I don't like it. It doesn't feel good and it doesn't feel right.

I'm feeling overwhelmed. Three finals in one week, immediately after which I fly to San Francisco for a day-and-a-half, and then on to Chiang Mai for three months. It's a lot, I feel heavy and concerned and worried. Nothing feels good or settled. I'm angry that certain people aren't taking it as seriously as I think it is. Is this merely because one person always becomes the strong and stable one when the other is falling apart? And why am I always the one who seems to be coming undone? I'm leaving, you! I'm going away. It doesn't seem to matter to anyone.

That's not true; my friends care. They're going to miss me. They're visibly sad, it seems. It's just hard to believe him about it. I almost think he's looking forward to it, like he's going to enjoy this new-found bachelorhood. Which makes me even angrier at myself that everything seems to be wound up in him and us. I have fought these ties, secretly, but they grew anyway; now I want it, and he is ambivalent. Isn't that always the way it works.

I'm angry, and embarrassed, basically the only two emotions I have no idea what to do with. I just feel like, if you want it, you want it. If you want it, you make sure that nothing gets in your way. If you really do want it, you fucking make it happen. And if you don't do that, you don't want it. Is that faulty reasoning? I can't see the right thing to do, all I know is what I want to do. I know that, if I hadn't gotten myself so dependent on this person, I would feel better. Because he's not there with me, he's just not. I thought he was. I thought he was even more there than I. Turns out I miscalculated: I laid it all out, I exposed everything to him, and it was met with a big nothing. Nothing.

What does one normally do in that situation? Back away, leave, exit, right? Detach. And I want to. I want to so much, but what can I do? I feel like a hostage. I feel so stuck, all I wanted was to be stuck with him, but now I'm stuck alone. I fell too far, I loved too hard, and here I am, again, alone. And there's nothing I can do about it. I want him to know what he lost, even though he doesn't know he lost it yet. I just thought it was it. I thought I had it. Instead, I found out he was an illusion. It was all a mirage. It all slipped away so easily.

I feel sick. I never thought, I didn't plan, I bet everything I had against this possibility. Which makes me the loser. It was too good to be true. I knew I didn't deserve something so great. Somewhere, some part of me knew it wasn't real. It's funny, I thought I was immune because I've had so many terrible affairs. I thought I beat the odds, I thought I outsmarted the universe. No, I just forgot the first canon of being human. I forgot that falling is how you get hurt.

Was it my fault? Did I do something wrong? Did I mess everything up, or did he? I lost my person. I just...I thought he was there. I thought we were it. No; it is nothing. It is never. It was never nothing. It was me, I misread.

Someday, someone will make it happen. Someday, someone will know. He'll meet me there. He'll feel like this. Today just isn't that day, and perhaps my someone just isn't that someone. The fact that he wasn't there when I was says more than I wish it did.

Someone has to, right? He has to be somewhere. Someone will. Someone will. Someone will.

I guess my fear is that if he's not there by now, if he can't see it after this much time, he never will. Maybe I'm not his it. I guess that's what that means, doesn't it. I asked this couple once, individually, whether they thought the other person was their soul mate. One answered yes, the other answered no. I wondered if that could be possible; which one was wrong? In my scenario, I am. I'm wrong. He didn't tell me, but that's what he means - I'm not it. If I was it, there wouldn't be any questioning or doubting or waiting. But there is, that's all we have now. Wait-to-see. So I can't be it. This can't be it. It was for me though, I thought it was for me.