for getting on with my life.
I'm not over it. Not by any means. I don't think I will be. For a couple years, at least. Probably never, completely. A year and a half relationship is a thing that sort of becomes ingrained into the totality of yourself. If they were to cleave me in two and examine the rings in my spine, tree-trunk style, they'd find a nice big Liz-Stacey-and-the-Stacey-Family-Experience ring. And it'll be a good nine months to a year before I can even see girls again. Even being able to look at them again is pretty weird (disappointing, by and large.) I should clarify -it's not like I'm going to pretend that other girls were somehow invisible to me while I was in my long-term relationship- I can definitely see them (except Sue Storm.) An attractive young lady is, undeniably, an attractive young lady. It's sort of like an addiction: the way you feel about the person you're in love with so supersedes regular old animal instinct attraction that it just sort of ceases to matter as much. And let me clarify again, the difference between seeing girls and looking at them is basically the difference between viewing and being engaged. I'm not saying I create a fictional backstory for every pretty girl I see when I'm single, (I totally do) but right now it's just Oh! Girls are a thing again! Hm, wait. Now I remember why I was so happy to be in a relationship. Not that I want to throw myself instantly into a rebound relationship or anything. I just forgot how terrible the quest of seeking a mate was/is/will be.
Also I have rekindled my affair with video games (and technology in general) by getting a new Xbox 360 in addition to my new computer. Nothing heals the heart like tons and tons of stuff. Money can't buy happiness, but it can buy comfort. Opulent, opulent comfort. And distraction. I find that my emotionally wrecked teetering wastrel self is far less prevalent as I am able to interrupt and derail my day-to-day autofunction. The further I get from routine, the easier it is to function normally, as contradictive as that may sound.
I am shocked. Downright shocked and how not insane I am about this. It was pretty bad, admittedly, right off the bat. And when I fixate and dissect and pore over the conversations (the in-my-head transcriptions which become increasingly inaccurate as I continue to replay them) and the messages and the texts, it makes me sick and sad and awful and agonized. But I have to really activate that. I have to allow myself to go down into that basement. Lord knows why I keep doing it to myself. But the rest of the time? I'm ok. Sometimes a little sad about it. Often a little bitter. Equal parts distressed and relieved with people telling me how much better off I am and how they never really liked her for me or the way we were together, et cetera. Like, a) I know you're just trying to cheer me up, but I'm still in love with her to a degree that I'm not ready to smack talk at her expense yet. And b) why were these concerns not voiced when I was on track to marrying this girl?
Okay, my best friends are exempt from this statement, because they never shied from giving me the facts of the matter, but they were also understanding enough to know I was going to ignore them anyway. That's what friends are for, after all.
I am suddenly and maniacally hungry. I could eat a horse. Or a human being.
No comments:
Post a Comment