I’m starting to think that I feel emotions more intensely than the rest of the general population. I know I overanalyze everything (which, however, does make for good writing). I’m also beginning to think that “hope” really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and generally only leads to disappointment (no offense, Barack).
Since about 1:00 am on Sunday to present, things have become one big shit show. In Act One of the shit extravaganza, I ran into a ghost from my past. While the encounter was shocking (to say the least), I should have seen it coming, giving all the blatantly synchronistic & coincidental signs in the days previous. The last time I had seen this person was almost a year ago to the day; and that had been a very, very bad day, indeed. Needless to say, this opened up a whole world of conflicting emotions. “Should I hug you, or punch you in the face?” I was riding a roller coaster, masked only by drunkenness and bewilderment. After a few hours of unnatural, and yet strangely comfortable banter I returned to my home. I think I spent a good hour staring at the wall trying to wrap my mind around what the fuck had just happened. The inner philosopher in me is still trying to grasp what it all means… if really anything at all. And since, I’ve been finding myself replaying the whole scenario over and over again in my head, trying to figure out all the little undertones, which were quite obvious, and yet utterly perplexing.
So begins Act Two, the morning after. It started with the mother of all hangovers; not from alcohol, but rather from the aforementioned discombobulation. In a completely separate issue, I had been really excited about the possibility of something happening from a recent and ongoing interaction. I was hopeful that perhaps something “really neat” would come of it. Exactly what, I could only speculate, but I was hopeful nonetheless. And it feels good to be excited and hopeful. But then in a combination of emotional delirium tremens, over analyzation, and some serious reality checking, I concluded that, most likely, I was only fooling myself. It had been only simple and (somewhat) innocent thus far, and I think I let my romantic imagination get the best of me. Even if on the chance that what I was experiencing was reciprocated, the probability of things turning out how I fantasized is quite low- probably closer to null. Picture a hang glider gleefully floating through the air, haplessly catching a bad gust, and crashing nose first into the ground. That’s pretty much how I felt. And to make matters worse, I realized this smack dad in the middle of a current interaction yesterday evening. Talk about a buzz kill. And I knew I was the only one to blame, because it had been all in my head the whole time.
Enter Act Three. Externally, today played out pretty much like normal. But I was still dealing with my lingering sentiments from the day before, and it didn’t help that because of the time change I had a hard time falling asleep at a reasonable hour, and when I awoke not only did it feel like 6am, (because to my body it was 6am), but it was also dark outside. Needless to say, while nothing noteworthy contributed to the shit show, the shit show continued.
To wrap up this cinematic, I’ll add a director’s note: The silver lining in this dark and stormy cloud is that I don’t regret anything I have said or done in within these recent communications. I have been true to myself, and acted accordingly. I have a friend who told me that 2009 is his “year of no guilt”. When he said this, I laughed and responded, “well don’t you drag me down with you!” But perhaps, in his spirit, I’ll proclaim 2009 to be my “year of no regrets”. At this point I feel like I’ve got nothing to lose.
I certainly said and did a lot of things within these interactions, and truthfully don’t regret a single bit of it. So if you happen to be one of the aforementioned folks, know that I wouldn’t take a thing back. Not a damn thing.