Blorp. I actually wrote the below post for a breakup from a long time ago, but never published it out of embarassment and general anti-emo sentiment. But it has some good stuff, I guess I might as well not let it sit in unpublished limbo and get all this angst out of my system.
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I woke up this morning curled in the corner of a California King sized bed, which was also occupied by two other men. One of them, Josh, is a recent acquaintance of mind who is the guitarist/lead singer of the band for which my best-friend-since-middle-school, David, currently plays bass guitar. David is the other person in the bed.
I wish this was a man-love story, because then the story wouldn’t generally be about the fact that the girl I rather like and want to be with recently shut me out of her life, for reasons pertaining to time and commitment and space and a thousand other nobody’s-fault-really explanations. And that it’s been depressing the hell out of me lately. It’s not as bad now as it was about a month ago when it happened. Transitioned from the gaping heart wound to something more like a bloody hangnail. Either way, it drags me down, and people notice, and that just drags me down more.
I’ve never really been dumped before, and I feel like I’m running through this whole list of cliches and silly rituals. The begging, the anger, the friendly reconciliation blatantly undertoned with begging, and then the ultimately heartfelt and/or hateful breakoff. Screw the cliches anyway, what the heck else am I supposed to do? When you set a person on fire, 99% of them are going to wave their arms and scream aren’t they? I don’t think I’m of the minority that would sit in the corner and quietly simmer, nor would I want to be.
Back to the bed. I was sleeping there, on Josh’s bed in Josh’s apartment, because David invited me to hang out at their recording studio all day. They’re finishing up their first album. Dave and I have only briefly hung out since I finished finals last week and came home, but I think he only needed a minute to realize that this was a largely emptier version of his friend that had come home, and therefore felt pity and invited me to spend the day with him and his band. Maybe. Right now I’m preferring that he just missed his little Asian buddy so much that he wanted to spend the whole day with me.
Last night, I accepted Dave’s invitation to sleep over at the band’s apartment and then slum in the studio all day with a healthy dose of reluctance, largely because lately, everything seems pointless because the girl I love more than cheesecake and cereal for dinner is somewhere out there, slowly but surely cutting me out of her life. What good would it do me to be hanging around a tight-knit group of musicians of which I will always be slightly excluded? But at least it was better than lying in bed, contemplating how to win back the what considered me worth losing. (Pretty fruitless, the best plans as of late consisted of some combination of extravagant surprises and strong physical attraction, two things that I currently have neither the money nor hair for.)
I was wrong, of course. Production is a wonderful thing. Collaborating on a project to present or entertain an audience… it’s my calling, my nature, really, though I haven’t figured out where I fit in. And just watching my friends work so hard and so passionately on something, a baby that could only be birthed by five unkempt twenty to fortysomethings and about tens of thousands of dollars worth of recording equipment. I actually got to sing in on a minor part of some group vocals, though when they played it back I couldn’t hear myself at all. Life as usual.
I forgot for a little while that passion like that still exists, because of the way she completely denies it to me now. Between us, anyway. I’m scared, because I’m single again, because I don’t know if I can find anything like what she and I shared, and I want to love so badly but I don’t know if I’m going to be able to trust for a long, long time.
God, I feel like I should write for a site, about girls sucking, or something… sigh. Life makes full circles in the most completely useless ways.