Friday, July 31, 2009

Petition to Drop the Melo

Because isn't all drama technically drama? I pondered this for quite a while on the metro this morning and then proceeded to the office, where I did no less. Because, yesterday an angry and rathe
r irritated Alpha expressed his disgust toward my drama, claiming that I was being "emo and crap."
Then I thought, "This is true." How many times have you looked out the window while a mellow song played on your ipod, and you felt like you were in a movie? Yes, blame the movies. Our lives a
re plain and simple. There are bad times, there are good times, there are OK times. In the end, when something sad happens to us, there isn't a theme song that plays just for us as the rain falls delicately against an old white rimmed window pane. Rather, when we're sad, it's because of a chemical and hormonal reaction. What's dramatic about that?
This isn't to say that people are purely chemical, but...well. It is.
I decided that in the end, it was a little strange for me to miss Alpha and our times together but ultimately not feel devstatedly sad over it. Two posts ago, I was terrible. I went home and
cried out all the pain. Well, I suppose it worked, because now I have none. What does this mean? I'm not sure. Maybe once I was done crying about it, I could get over it more easily.
The heart doesn't break-- you break your own heart by believing you're sad and doomed.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Changes

Start of a new day. A new mindset.

Typically when I get my heart broken, my life is ruined for about a month. But the last time this happened, I was 18.

I'm a 21 year old woman now. I don't need this kind of drama in my life when I have other things to live for. I have God to live for. I have me to live for. I have people who actually give at all to live for.

Yesterday I got back to my apartment, and forced myself to cry for hours and hours until there was nothing left to release. I confronted the problem for a while and thought about it for a long time. I'm still thinking about it. But what is the use in telling someone who doesn't care just how hurt you are? Someone angered by my hurt is not someone worth misering over.

In the end, I've learned that I'm not the victim unless I make myself the victim. If I stop caring and if I forget what happened, then I am just another college girl who engaged in some wrong summer fling instead of a victim of a pseudo-player's heart break.

To be strong for real and make this a turning point in the story of my transformation into a woman, I will have to deny him. If he comes back to me later apologizing, I will have to resist and not take him back. In the past, I've done this, but this time I promise myself, it's over. There is not enough time to care so much about one man or live my life based on someone else's. If things go wrong, I won't beg anymore. I won't be pathetic.

It'll be hard but I'm going to make it happen because I refuse to be a girl, a tally in someone's mental book of conquests and sorry women. I'm finally going to have control.

Aand..Cheers to that, mate.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

My Confession

I haven't written in a while, and there is a good reason for it. I have come to many different realizations about myself since school ended in June. It is nearing the end of July now, and much has happened. I am not the same girl, and I never will be.

I started working as an intern in the public sector starting June. Most times in our lives, we dream up expectations-- a scenario we play out and fantasize in our minds until that moment really comes. Naturally, reality aligns with gravity to pull our heads out of the clouds and back onto the ground. Sometimes, the reality is better than what we expect. Other times, we are disappointed. I am at a point right now, where I'm not sure which category I fall into.

I sit in my office cubicle right now. On a self proclaimed break after lunch, I type this entry while biting my lip the hardest I've ever bitten. I wasn't sure what to expect with my internship, but I expected a high pace corporate environment. Call me naive, and I can now whole heartedly agree, but there was no way I could have known prior to this. A fine, fine line was drawn between the two causes. Perhaps the expected did happen in some parallel universe, but it sure as hell did not happen in this real world now.

I expected myself to study for my actuarial exam all summer without any trace of a 21 year old's social life. I wanted to be ambitious, I wanted to be studious, and I wanted it to happen. I daydreamed about my life as an aspiring intern during my classes; I imagined the luxury of being able to document it on my resume. At the same time, my probability test would go well, having intently studied it for the whole summer. After all, DC has a high crime rate. I would not want to be out and about partying in fear of getting murdered, the usual stories I see on the local news. My fantasies included me going to work, coming home and playing with the cats, and then spending a good four hours studying. My boyfriend would visit me and spend loving romantic evenings out in the town, exploring monuments. I laugh now at how ridiculous my hopes were.
Instead, fate seemed to find amusement in allowing me to make the most of what they say "Life is a curious thing." My two instances collide like black on white, never yielding grey. I found that the environment of a government office, particularly the one I work in, is very different. While my peers loathe their jobs, working on average about 80 hours a week, I enjoy half the hours of that in an understated laid back environment. In turn, sitting in an office cubicle under flourescent lights seems to sprinkle some sort of magical dust on you. I found myself yearning to go out and explore the night.

After becoming somewhat situated in the office, I embarked on my first trip where I was to meet other interns-- something I was rather nervous about. The day before, I had gingerly searched on Facebook, curious to see who else had joined the network of our workplace. TO my surprise, I had a friend! It turned out to be, who we will nickname, "Cloud". Cloud was a peer who I had met through an old friend years ago in Middle School at a summer program. It was such a coincidence, that we decided to have lunch together. Since I was nervous about meeting other interns on the trip (which was strategically placed the next day by God), I was quite happy to have met someone. I would not be alone on the bus ride.

Then, trip day happened. I am convinced now that this very day changed the course of my summer plans and ultimately my very being. Everything I ever believed was called into question during the weeks that continued afterward. Everything I thought I loved, thought I knew dissolved and manifested in something new.

It was the day I met him.

Him was everything, and for that purpose, we can call him "Alpha." He was like no one I had ever met before. The moment we spoke, I felt comfortable. Our conversation flowed so nicely; there were no awkawrd pauses, no judgment, no conscious efforts to keep the lines coming. The bus ride was long, but his very existence made time fly by so effortlessly. We talked about my boyfriend, about his girlfriend. Having been faithful for so long to one person, I had never been so disappointed in hearing someone of the opposite sex say he already had someone than that during that exact moment in time. It, however, was okay. Friendship was an appealing word, and I didn't mind. At the end of the trip, I had made up my mind that Alpha was the human embodiment of perfection. His face, his clothes, his kindness, his fusion'd accent, his goals all distracted me from any current commitment I had. Basically, Alpha was all I could have ever wanted. But this was surprising to me. His cultural background and race, as I shamefully admit, had previously been huge turn-offs for me. My roommates and I would talk the most senseless, irrational garbage about his people. My utter attraction to him transcended all reason, and it confused me.

After that trip, I dreamed about him, and I thought about him. However, his lack of interest pushed me away. Friends it is then..until the following Monday. Cloud invited another intern along with Alpha to go to happy hour for drinks and then to see a movie afterward. I had already told Cloud of my attractions and claimed him as my summer confidant. Hesitant about attending, I told him I might have to study. Dismissing such an excuse he lured me in with "Alpha will be coming." Sold.

That day, Alpha's kindness fed more and more butterflies to my chest. I ended up inadvertantly seated next to him during the movie. In the cold theater, I felt his body heat next to me warming me, and at that moment, it was such a terrific feeling mixed in with the adrenaline rush from watching the movie. The moment I fell was the moment he leaned his head in to speak to me. I couldn't hear over the noise of the movie, so I leaned mine down too. As we accidentally touched heads for a whole 10 seconds, my heart fluttered like I was in middle school again.
What began as a friendship, slowly began to mold itself into something else each time we texted one another after that. Each day, we would generate 250 text messages back and forth; they started out innocent, moved through flirty, and ended up suggestive. It was all set in stone when we set a day for him to come to my apartment and watch movies. In the end, no movies were watched. We lay in my bed listening to his music collection, and talked. I wanted to kiss his lips so bad; he was so perfect. We bonded for hours, talking about our personalities, our dislikes, our likes...everything. The conversation in the dark, ended up with a series of hard kisses. He must have wanted me too.

Later, Alpha confessed to me that upon the first impression, he thought I was pretty and started to mind what he wore to work during the week in case he saw me. That night was one of the happiest nights of my....life? Though this is debatable, whatever other happiest nights of life there may have been, this one came close to the best. And as time went by, my lust for Alpha blossomed into a strong wanting. As a result, the next time we met outside of the office, I slept with him. For that week, I threw away any responsibility and regard for my boyfriend, for his girlfriend, for self-respect. While some friends feverently egged me on, others mortified by my behavior expressed their disappointment in me. In the end, all that mattered to me was that I was having a summer fling with the most perfect guy I had ever met. There were two more times of intimacy after that, and my heart was sold to him.

I suspect many readers could already see the problems and implications that would result from this, and the rationality screaming out of my very left-brained mind did frighten me. At the time and shamefully still, I was/am blinded by a rush of cloudy emotions and desire even, and my heart refused to cooperate with my mind. This internal chaos resulted in an inevitable attachment. As much as men can blame past women for wrongs, and as much as past men can blame me for their broken hearts, I believe it is highly justified when someone says "Women become attached after sex." But time was running out. A 2 month internship that had just begun for me, was ending rapidly for them. Like that new Seattle movie with Jennifer Aniston, Alpha had an expiration date on his forehead.

People might question how a single person could change my whole outlook on life? I realized how much I had been limiting myself with my racist selections in partners, and how perhaps if I could give up myself so easily while in a relationship, well, how important is that relationship to me? I used to think, if I found someone I loved in college, I would be faithful no matter what..especially after the consequences of my first serious college relationship ended up in turmoil as a result of my own bad drunken judgment. I thought I had learned my lesson from that, and I did for the next 3 years. But the past 3 years of loyalty suddenly disengaged itself from me, and fell away so quickly. I began to think "I am young. I have the rest of my life to be with someone." But at the same time, I was too fearful to even dream about telling my boyfriend.

These emotions and fantasies, now melt into a different fear. As his last day in the office lies but two days from today, I find my heart torn as my eyes bleed mascara. His sudden distance reminds me of what kind of pain I will have to endure, and it's already starting. "I don't mean to ignore you," he says. "And I don't want to make you feel bad, but it will help not make me miss you when I go back."

Whatever wrongs I have done in the past, whosever hearts I have broken even collectively could not amount to the pain I'm feeling now. I had known that this day would come, and I had known that we would not be anything more than each other's summer conquest subjects. I was consciously and fully aware of the grave I had been digging for myself, but I didn't stop myself, because I wanted it. Although I had later realized through our time together that Alpha was not flawlessly kind or perfect and that he did annoyingly get angry over stupid things, I loved those imperfections. Although it is what it is, a month and a half of physical activity engaging two different people from different backgrounds, I learned so much about my own dependency and my own personality. How I become attached to things that matter to me, how I live in the moment without regard for the future, how I sacrifice things for others. Even when another girl was brought into the picture and I vowed I would never talk to him again, his skin, his eyes, his teeth, his kiss, his body, his tongue, and his....personality? all brought me back to him.
The last night we will probably ever spend together, as of now, probably can be assumed as the day I last saw him last week. As I slept on him that Friday night, in his dreams, he rolled over and held me tight before sleepily kissing me. A weary, half asleep murmuring whisper of "I love you." I said nothing back, because I knew he was sleep-talking. It made me think. I couldn't love him.

But if it wasn't love, what is it? I love my boyfriend of years; he who would wipe my drunken vomit away with his bare hands and he who I could tell anything to do. I couldn't possibly love a stranger I'd only slept with three times and seen for a month and a half. The intense rush I got from him, the comfort I felt while I was with him...I don't know his personality even that well, but in a cliche way, I feel as though I did love him as two souls would when they combine without any rational thought and purely based on feeling. I used to believe that love was based on purely emotion, but changed when I met my boyfriend. Now, I question it. If I would sacrifice so much for one man, and with the way he could render me so much pain... more than I ever felt with my boyfriend, it might as well be the kind of love I've always been questioning.

I sit now, mortified by my long blog entry and at the dramatic and cliche words I've put into it. But, the pathetic aspect of this is...that there would be no other adequate words to describe this experience. There is so much pain inside as I type, that it can't even be compared to how I felt at the worst point in my relationship with my current boyfriend. Then, I bawled and bawled until I could not any longer. That was easy. Now, I feel the pain inside, but my eyes refuse to cry out the tears. I want to cry them out, but there is so much weight inside, that I am numb. Now through Alpha, I know. My expectations for a purely career and academic related experience have been overshadowed by a personal discovery of emotion. Quite frankly, it is hard to admit in the midst of his exit from my life. While I am sure I will never see him again after this Thursday, I boldly explain my feelings.



I....love a stranger and I hate it.