Firstly, something old:
I am constantly at war with myself. I’ve come to terms with the fact that this will probably never change, but for now I’ve resolved to only tell the truth. I don’t know, it seems like it may help. It can’t hurt, right?
My truth kick began about two months ago when I finally admitted to myself that I couldn’t be with my boyfriend any longer and broke up with him, despite the fear that I may never get another boyfriend for the rest of my life. It was a much bigger deal than I just made it sound like, but I’m finished dwelling on it.
My mission to be honest also had (has?) something to do with the guy I’ve liked (possibly loved, I don’t really know) for the past four years despite attempts to forget about him. I really admired him, his love of God, his spirit, and how far he had come in regards to a troubled past. And the day I broke up with my ex-boyfriend, I drove over to his house. I don’t really know why, maybe on the off-chance I’d see him in his yard or checking the mail. In my head I imagined him seeing me in my car, coming up to my window that I had rolled down, and asking me to get out and talk. Then a deep conversation would occur in which both he and I revealed that we had liked one another for years. But what actually happened was when I saw him, my heart barfed and I pretended to be on the phone and not see him.
Now here I’ve left out one important detail. When I saw him in front of his house, he was loading boxes into a moving van. Fearful and feeling sick, I went home and sent him a message with a made-up story about me having to pull into his neighborhood to take a call and I just happened to see him. I asked him about the moving van. He didn’t respond for about 5 days. When he finally wrote me back, it was to say he was now living in Virginia. And he is still in Virginia, and will remain in Virginia. And there went four years of unfulfilled desires. I guess I should sort of be happy about that. But why would I be? I’m not a positive person (though I try really, really hard to be).
To conclude my sob story, I noticed a few days ago that he deleted me off of facebook. Sounds stupid, but I can just imagine him going through his friends list, deleting the people he doesn’t really care about anymore. And I was one of them. Part of me knows he knew how much I liked him, and part of me hates him for knowing that and still deleting me. I guess I’m being forced to stop hanging on to him, which I hate, but maybe it needs to happen. I don’t want to give in so easily and just be like, “Okay, whatever, I’ll do what you say,” but I also don’t want to be stuck on someone who (pardon my language) doesn’t give a sh*t about me.
And now something new:
Since I wrote that, I find I’m thinking of it less and less. It’s been about an entire week since I’ve wandered across the subject and felt sad about it. I’m feeling happier than I ever have before. I’m doing things I never would have imagined. One of which is a short film festival I decided to enter on a whim yesterday morning. I drove all the way downtown to hand-deliver my DVD, and even though I don’t consider myself a film maker AT ALL, I’m still super proud of myself for submitting my little short film. It’s going to be played tomorrow at one of the coolest movie theaters in the city along with some other short films, and then the audience will vote on their favorite. I definitely don’t expect to win, but I’m looking forward to it. It will be the perfect way to kick off the weekend: watching unique never-before-seen films surrounded by my supportive family. I really can’t wait. And I’m not even nervous for the introduction I have to do in front of the audience.
School and work are keeping me ridiculously busy, and though I may complain, I honestly think having something to focus on 6 days a week has helped me get over the emotional hurdle of summer. What can I really say? I’m jumping in with both feet.