So, here comes the post sans pictures where I am just filled with honesty. You get these every so often. You either love them or hate them. But it’s what I have to say.
I saw Bridesmaids yesterday. Now here’s the part of the blog where the author generally fills you in on the humor and the fact that it’s defying the label of “chick flick”–except it’s not a chick flick at all and that is not the point I am trying to make.
The point is–it depressed me. I laughed a lot, but I also saw my own actions and mistakes played out on the big screen (and really close, too, as we were in the front section). I saw someone repeating mistakes with someone who made her feel bad about herself and treating a nice guy like shit. I saw someone pretending she was okay with the status quo and refusing any help. I saw someone who danced so horribly it was awesome (okay, so that’s part cool).
While I haven’t necessarily been treating any nice guys like shit–at least that I know of–I have at the very least been ignoring them; I forgot nice guys exist. And maybe that’s a defense mechanism–maybe I’m afraid of either settling down or of the nice guys turning out to be not so nice guys. In the words of my mom: “who knooows.”
And, really, there is nothing wrong with the nice guys. I’m self handicapping; I’m playing blind.
Instead, here I find myself hanging onto a situation with someone that I don’t truly feel anything for. It can be exciting and fun, but I always end up feeling worse about myself. It’s not love; it’s not anything close. And while it hasn’t happened for a few weeks, I can’t say it’s never going to happen again. I’ll either get a call or make a call and for a short period of time I’ll feel needed and like I can truly comfort someone (please don’t read too much into that–I am not talking about a booty call) but then there will be silence and this empty mindset–I don’t let myself feel yet I can’t help feeling bad about myself.
That is not what I need. That is not how people who care about you treat you. Yet I let myself hang on and occasionally believe I am “special” and that I can “change” someone. But there’s no consistency. Other than the consistency of slowly wearing away my ability to really feel. But I keep hardening myself. And making jokes. And it’s not love. And I know that.
But you know what it is? It’s a distraction. At the time, it’s fun and it’s pleasant and it doesn’t allow me to think about anyone else because there is “someone” there. But how can I even consider that “someone” to truly be there when they are not?
There are laws against driving while distracted. You could hurt yourself, or someone else. Well, I’m saying there should be laws against living while distracted. Because I’ve been doing it for so long that I don’t even know how far off track I’ve gotten.
This is my stream of thoughts, unedited and unorganized. I don’t think I’ve ever said this all aloud and have only partially admitted this all to myself. Do I know what I want? No. Do I know what I don’t want? Well, I’m starting to.
I’m not a lost cause–I have wonderful friends and a great job and lots of promise on the horizon. But I’m stubborn and I’m distracted and I need to learn to both help myself and listen to others. Distractions can only take you too far before you find yourself lost in the middle of nowhere with nothing–no one–to turn to.
There went honesty.