A Brief Pause In Sobriety, Voice Memos, &Was I In Love Or Just 19 Years Old…
I’m not the biggest fan of psychoanalysis. I truly do believe that while we could monitor, weigh out, or draw conclusions from every thought and dream that we come across, we shouldn’t.
Because sometimes thoughts are scary. And as a ocd certified individual it’s much easier to watch the wave pass rather than try to surf it and inevitably crash.
That being said. I think we can all agree that in some regard, our thoughts, emotions, deepest insecurities, are deeply rooted in childhood experiences.
Someone once said to me and I’m paraphrasing here: Some soulmates are not meant to last forever. But rather be a mirror in which you see yourself. And kindly depart.
If that person — the one I once mistook for a soulmate — and our laughably short “love story” were just shards of broken glass scattered across the beach,
Then I was the loon, wandering the shore with a metal detector, stubbornly scanning for pieces of gold, insisting that the pain was precious, that the wreckage was rare.
Delusional, yes — but determined. Digging up what cut me, holding it to the light, and truly believing broken glass was gold
I’m sort of a procrastinator which is something I am trying to work on. And essentially, in the present moment. I can only work on tasks that inspire me.
And therefore I can only write about things that have been circling around my brain in a loop.
And this morning even though the romantic emotions have faded, and I can barely remember the completeness of his face, the wounds have healed, etc.
I needed to understand what it is he symbolized to me. Because if it is true there is no romantic emotional pull towards this person anymore, then why did I drunkenly, via my high school bestie Nia send this person like 10 voice memos.
And truly I’m just trying to, somewhat poetically, disprove the thesis that sure maybe I’m a little crazy.
But I truly don’t think I am.
Because to deny the first time that conversations felt light as feathers, and cuddling just meant “I want to be closer to you”, and subtle humor and incitement and accidental intentionally was built into every conversation. To deny that this meant both nothing and was easily emotionally disposable. That would be insanity.
So I think I answered my question. Or at least halfway. He represented “love” the kind you can only innocently have once.
The funny thing about the brain. And the funny thing about not being 19… you start to relize that actually, most things are broken glass.
And in this moment. After both word vomiting and actually vomiting, the sun is hitting the broken glass well enough for me to see 3 things.
it’s broken
It’s not gold
It’s actually a shattered beer bottle
I really hope who ever is reading this never chases comfort. Ever. But especially in romantic endeavors.
I really hope who ever is reading this stops seeing broken glass for gold.
Because, ugh this is cheesy, but stop it because a diamond is waiting for u.
And if you date in the right tax bracket… a really really big diamond. (Princess cut btw in case my future hubby reads this)
In therapy we like to sit in uncertainty.
So maybe I am emotionally too available and extremely delusional for writing about this very temporary person in my life.
Maybe?
Or maybe I’m just a girl.