Giving Up

i hate when there’s too much to say and too much you can’t really say for the sake of others, or maybe it’s for the sake of yourself but you don’t even know. i hate when i am filled with this overly-melodramatic existentialism. When i throw myself around thinking that nothing matters because we all die lonely anyway. Nothing matters because no matter how hard you try we all die and we were all unhappy because happiness is a myth. Existence must precede essence, but even if you achieve your essence you still rot away in some urn or some tomb or some grave. Worm food. Nothing even matters! That is why this is okay.

But then today Jenny asked me to lay off this nothing matters stuff because it negates her and her love for me. But right now this is the best way to get through the fear and the heart break. The only way to convince myself that if i had been able to provide more, if i had acted different, better, if it had not been so hot or so poor or so dirty or ghetto, if i could have made it better—that i would not even be writing this. But i couldn’t! i couldn’t! i could not do any of it.

So, this is why nothing matters. Why no matter how much you love someone, they’ll reject you or die. No matter how good you want something to be, everything has a way of not being that. No matter what you need, there is someone else who needs something else. What i know best, however, is that i am lame and selfish and i am complaining about someone’s liberation and happiness. Obviously i am being a big, fat, stupid, selfish whiney baby.

It is because i am afraid of being alone and forgotten. Andrea is going to go back to Tucson and have friends and Ernie and school and work, and she is going to forget about me. Eva is going to forget. Jenny, Stephannie and Deanna too. Then, when i do have to go back, i won’t have friends here or there.

But, still, i stay. This could possibly be the stupidest thing i have even done. But if i go back i will feel like nothing but a big fat loser. Going back will nullify everything: my dreams. My work. The past six months. It will nullify the work i did to get myself here in the first place, and i would end up where i started: in Tucson, in my parents’ house with nothing to do but sit around and continue this dying i am doing.

In five days i am going to get on the bus from the airport, get on the train and go to my stupid apartment and sit there until i can’t feel anything and i am going to go to work that night and smile nice for all our guests until i don’t even know who i am. Then i am going to do this everyday until i get the courage to go back.

NEXT DAY
i think i need to go back. Today i was at work watching myself weep in the mirror. i can’t do this. i think i’m Tucson bound.