2006-04-04
by necessity
"I miss you so much, and I have nothing."
I found a spiral notebook in my backpack, and this is what the fifth page says. It is written in a blue pen that has generous ink flow. The handwriting is cursive, but you can tell it was written by a boy. The I's are beautiful; the pen was never lifted and there are the faint lines of the pen's upcurves and downturns as the writer beautifully scrawled the message across the top of the sheet.
It's not meant for me.
It's not possible. My eyes are glazed, you cannot see beyond them.
There are solitary moments in the day when I realize the sort of social obscurity that I have slipped into. These moments are subtle- and not to be re-hashed, due to my own conscientiousness and any impending awkwardness.
I realize that I am alone, but in a different way than previously.
By necessity.
I can't afford relationships right now, they require thought (of action, words, moods) that requires time, which I have naught. I am so good at deducing and making logical sense of my hermitness, aren't I?
I remember the days when I "used to" think I had no time. Some of it is documented here, even up to Junior year when I was convinced I had tonnns of homework. This was before I get home at nine thirty and realize that I've been working for the last six hours standing the whole time at a stressful job, with seven hours of school and efforted thought before that, and six hours of restless sleep before that. And now there is an English paper to write, nitpicky IB biology homework to do, and indecipherable calculus to even try to try to try. Now I realize.
The clock and its obligations now dictate my life. Out of necessity. Of course.
I wouldn't even know what to say to you. I'm so rusty. I'm not interesting. I'm busy, in a dull way.
I couldn't remember.
Now children, here we have a prime example of victimization. Observe Exhibit Lisa in her natural state, toiling away (aha, how quaint, a comical use of overstatement!) because she knows she needs to. Lacking her elusive desires. Look at her frown on the inside. And cross your arms in scolding because you know she must. Or thinks she must.
I just took a break to go get my water bottle. I am going to start drinking more, you know.
I can see how people aren't horny. I used to not really get the concept of having a mature body and not ever really wanting to get it on. That made no sense, how people could just not yearn for sex. Not just the action, the all-encompassing idea, down to the "rawr." It's irrestible. Not to make myself sound like a disgusting animal or something, but honestly, if I'm not in the mood right now, just give me a few minutes and trust me I can probably manage to get there.
Now, I'm afraid I can relate. I can relate to the grandmas who would opt to crochet instead, and the monks in their serene quietude. You know they get nothing, and they seem fine. Well I am too. Hrm.
I know I'm not making myself sound good. You would have no idea that I had no rejections in the collegiate sense, and that I've been offered a total of over $100,000.00 to attend these schools that will mould my future education. And that I have a stable family life and relatively good health.
But victimization, remember?
And I keep saying it will get better. See this water bottle in my hand? This is some profound symbol of a start to change!
It's a rather sad goal, isn't it? "I am on a quest! To alter most aspects of my current existence! To change everything about life!" Oh yes.
Perhaps- once again- by necessity.
....What if the spiral notebook message was for me?
If I had chosen a different path, one that involved communication and the sharing of emotions with other people? Or what if someone was reaching for me, wanting me lovingly in their grasp? Yearning to earnestly squelch me of my unhappiness (it's not "un"happiness; it's not the "opposite" of happiness, more "not"happiness).
My hypothetical response then echoes their plea. I send it out humbly to the emptiness that surrounds me.
I miss you so much, too.
And I also have nothing.
leesah-likes at 4:28 p.m.