Saturday, August 28, 2010

That random age..

Soon, very soon, I wi.ll turn 17, which does not faze me too much beyond the fact that it is the first age I have hit wherein NO ONE you meet is quite it- sort of like 22 or 32. Due to my nature, I think that this should not be so- I should romanticize the passing of time and bemoan my mortality (prematurely, perhaps). But this year has been one with very little effort or time put into it; therefore, it has yielded me little favorable results in my life and further increased my isolation. (One good effect of that is: I no longer moan in public internet spaces, such as this one, over my relative or complete loneliness or insignificance, for I have had to learn to stomached both).

In fact, from this point onward, I shall increase my level of openness, for I have been forgotten nearly in complete. Very few of the people I know will occasion to read this, so I am safe to speak of the effect of conversations, encounters, and other such thing with the other 99% of people who inspire me to feel.

I will begin with a morning visit today I received from my oldest friend who, out of the awkward clash of all we are and have been and wished to be and will be, I am still hesitant to name as "friend," (not out of malice or lack of want). I am happy that she still comes to visit me- still suffers to speak with me- and I swear I've had to purge myself of most of the tendencies that caused, initially, our demise. Yet whenever I am around her the future turns to haze and the past, which I have long loved, is revealed as a parasite to the present. She and I reminisce and all I can thing about afterwards is
  1. How I've been rudely awakened to the dark side of my nostalgia;
  2. How things just are not the same for anyone, including me;
  3. How the future, ironically, turned out just as I feared even though I learned, a bit, to be a better person; and
  4. How I just can't muster the creativity or "fun" to make any new memories or inspire anyone to want me around.
I want friends still. In fact, even with all the changes we've both, respectively, undergone, I'd still love to have my friend as a "best friend." But such a thing is no longer something guaranteed nor something I deserve or can truly live up to.

My party is soon. I wish things would blow my mind and be as they used to be: everyone getting along and breaking down all those petty barriers we'd all erected about ourselves; everyone finding out that ____ wasn't so bad and really quite cool to know. But I don't think so. I think it might just be better for my ego if I were to forgo a party and cut my losses without facing reality: no one, except my boyfriend, knows me too well anymore... And even he has no real reason for enjoying my company. I am no longer any fun, really: I am both adult-dull (which I don't find to be dull!) and scared to death of sin, judging others, being hypocritical, and a host of other things...

I don't know how to operate very well any longer. Even in my depression and hatred, I think I was easier company, if more judgmental and cruel at times.


Wayne said...

What's all this about me having no reason to enjoy your time, eh? There's pleanty to be enjoyed in the time that I have with you... Like seeing deer in the park and getting caught in the rain for three quarters of a mile, for instance.

Marvin the Martian said...

Hey, happy B-day! You were 14 just a minute ago. My, how you've grown. I'm so proud of you, of all you've done, of how far you've come, how much you've grown. You will always be your own worst critic, and that's fine, but you're learning to accept yourself as you are, and that's another step toward liking yourself, which is another step toward loving yourself, which is another step toward others loving you. Only when you're comfy and loving toward yourself, can you make room for others to love and accept you. And some may love and accept you anyway in spite of it all. ;-)