I’m loving university life. The friends, intellectual stimulation, routine, reason to get up in the morning…
Actually, I’m just loving life.
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What’s on my mind? I’ve thought about blogging a lot lately…taking a different direction and writing about psychology. By the time I’m done with my reading for university, my brain is fried. One of these days though…
A friend of mine told me yesterday that I’m so much happier nowadays. I am 🙂 I’m loving university, have made a bunch of (non-married, non-parenting friends who I can hangout with impromptu). I’m fascinated by what I’m studying and love the mixture of routine and freedom that student life allows me to have.
All in all, life is pretty sweet at the moment.
Someone I know (very well) struggles with anxiety. Except it’s not general – it’s exacerbated by relationships – of the romantic kind. It reminds me of me – a very long time ago. Or maybe not so long ago – maybe even now. Sometimes, I think I know myself, but life’s tests make me take a different path than the one I thought I would take.
I must remember,
A boy is not my buoy.
Sorry, I couldn’t resist.
And there I was, months ago, writing about how happy you were. Don’t get me wrong, I wish you no harm. It just stings, believing that it was just “me”. I see now, the same patterns. You say glass pieces, I say eggshells. Tomato, tomato. Potato, potato.
I feel sorry for you, for you’re nothing more than the latest victim. The next heart to be broken. I see through your writing, that your entire life has been sacrificed. Your words don’t speak of anything other than him or the things you do for him, as has been the case for months.
But deep down, a tiny part of me is satisfied.
I was right.
I dream of a bollywood romance, with inevitable family drama, tears and the token melodramatic grandmother screaming “Hai Allah” while feigning a heart attack. Then the families realise that the most important thing is their children’s (or grandchildren’s) happiness and agree. A lavish wedding takes place and the two lovers live happily ever after.
Add in a few songs and dancing in the rain, and that sounds like my dream come true.
Hmm, maybe I do like drama after-all.
Even though I want to move on, sometimes the tyres get stuck in the mud. Spinning round and round, but going nowhere. Splashing mud in all directions.
Things remind me of the past and cause the spinning. A painting. A look. A touch. A comment.
I wonder, will it ever stop?
I thought it was a sign – a divine sign – that you were meant for me and I for you. I printed out your picture and put it on my vision board, filling the last blank space. A representation of my heart’s deepest desires. You. A stranger. Yet so familiar.
Then we spoke. No, I’m not the MI6. Why didn’t you laugh at my jokes? Why did you shrug me off? Why did others find you to be so rude?
I struggle to use that as a blockade. My desire to be with the idea of you is stronger than my desire to believe that you are what you sounded like you are. A jerk.
I hold onto her words: you have a big heart. I make excuses in my head…I’m a stranger. You’re probably scared. She’s just a random girl who called you up. Who looked you up, found you and stalked you. Actually now that I think about it, I get it. It’s quite strange. Yet behind that strangeness, at the other side of the screen, on the other side of the phone….is me. A nice person. A hopeless romantic whose heart desires nothing more than an illusion of you to pour her love into. The love that I have that overflows from me, with no chalice to fill.
And there you are.
The embodiment of everything I think I want.
The picture that fills the blank space.
The chalice that my love seeks.
I live in hope.