Love Among the Ruins

I spent the last couple of days down in Tampa. I sort of hung out with the guy I like. Everything’s still uncertain since I only got to personally spend a few hours with him. The rest of the time was distractions from other people, and the fact that he had to move to a different apartment close by, but he had to do a bunch of things I had no idea. Tonight he left for Orlando, where his parents live so he could return the car he borrowed. I went with my friend to an improv party. And there she was. She was drunk, but she happy. But I couldn’t tell if she was actually happy. She was affectionate. Nice. Caring. We spent time alone on the back deck talking about what makes us happy. We talked about how we used to dance on top of parking garages for no reason and how there was no one to tell us it was wrong or have responsibilities or limitations. She agreed and said she missed that.

"Are you happy? You got everything you wanted. House. Life. Relationship." I asked her. 

"I think I am. I didn’t think at first that you needed to be happy to have people care about you. I thought you needed to be sad to have people care. But you don’t. And that’s unconditional love. Well, sort of."

"Well, I’m glad you’re happy."

"Are you?"

I laughed.

"Really?"

"No. But it’s whatever."

"What do you hope for before you die? What could make you happy?"

I turned to her. "A connection with someone."

"What colour do you feel you’re like right now?"

"I don’t know, purple? You?"

"Maroon."

"How come?"

"It just feels right."

"Well, I’m glad you’re happy. You deserve it."

"You know how I feel about you." She told me.

"I know."

"I don’t need to say anything else."

I nodded.

"I’m going to go back inside." She kissed me on the cheek. I smiled.

And she left. I soon went back inside, and I heard a song I knew on the sound system. Soon, it was another one. Playing was the CD I made her. She was playing it. She was on the couch, slowly drifting off into some other world. And I turned to her, and I smiled. And then he came over–the guy, her boyfriend, and he sat down, kissed her, and they cuddled. 

Then we all left, and I went back to my friend’s place. To his roommate’s room. To the other person’s, whom I’ve fallen for, empty room.

 And I’m sitting in this empty bedroom in a city that feels more strange to me than anything. But I’m not home. I’m not home anywhere. I don’t know how much longer I can take my mind twisting itself into a clusterfuck. I don’t know how much longer I can take people making my mind so. I keep blundering through life hoping that I can form a connection with someone. I keep hoping that I can muddle through and be fine without anyone.

I’ve sat in this same spot thinking about everything that’s happened in the past year. I’ve sat thinking about these few people. I’ve sat– And I wish things were different. I don’t usually fall for people, but when I do, it’s hard. And it’s like a wall hits me, and I feel like I’ve become crippled by it. I hate people. I hate the way they make me feel. I hate not knowing if I’m fucked or not. I hate knowing that I am fucked. I hate being led on. I hate being hurt. I hate being hurt. And I continually am. I hate it. And I hate knowing I have no chance. I hate knowing I will never win no matter what. I hate being weird. I hate being crazy. I hate longing for someone. I hate longing in general. I hate crying for what seems to be hours, knowing that no one will come in and tell me that everything’s going to be okay.
 
But I tell everyone else that. I tell them that things are going to be okay, and that these things fall into place. That they’re brilliant no matter what. But it’s all shit. It’s nothing. I haven’t even experienced it for myself. I’m a fake. And every morning I wake up I wish I hadn’t. There is no point to it. But I do it. I muddle through every day knowing that nothing good will happen. No one will be there waiting.
 
 I’m sitting in an empty bedroom that seems to be a representation of my life. I lose everything that means something to me, and it’s not by choice. I’ve just had the worst track record with people. 
 
I’ve finally gotten over her. And then I’ve fallen for someone else. And I didn’t mean for that to happen, but it did. And I’m okay with that, but I so unsure about everything. I’m so unsure if anything will happen. This person I’ve fallen for is the first person I haven’t compared to her. The first person to have made me smile in a long while. The first person to make me feel like there’s a connection to something more than just a shallow relationship. 
 
I’m unsure of everything. I wish I had some type of grounded certainty in my life. I wish I could live on a desert island by myself and not have to worry about anyone.
 
I hate people.