I’ve had to deal with a lot of change in the past 5 or 6 months – not much in my life has been consistent. I can recall a time when that would have terrified me, and that declaration would have probably been accompanied by heavy feelings of nostalgia and sadness, maybe even resentment. Of course vestigial flickers of these emotions are inherently present in the passing of time, but the degree to which I feel harrowed by all the reshaping and disappointment is surprisingly mild.
And I know what it is. Sometimes you expect to be disenchanted by the very people who know you so intimately, not out of a lack of confidence but because it just hasn’t been any other way. The last time things were stable, you were getting to know one another.
As I’m writing this, there are specific people that come to mind. When you disconnect from someone it’s irrelevant whether they were your friend, boyfriend/girlfriend, or some ambiguous combination of the two. Misery is losing them. Misery is going through the motions and convincing yourself that their presence was pernicious and a catalyst for disappointed hopes.
There’s something forlorn in the idea of wearing your connection so thin that one day you’re too exhausted to search for more words – you’re so bogged down by the bullshit that you’re reduced to a state of indifference. A melange of painful emotions just strip away the hope you always fell back on. Well, I suppose what happens is that it dissolves any misgivings you had about your separation. But I’m not indifferent, I probably never will be. I just know better.
I suppose I should cut this short. I don’t do melancholy very well.