For months, I've been think a lot about becoming something. It sounds dumb, but I think about it all the time. I worry that I won't become the person I want to; but also that I might not ever decide what that person is in the first place. Unlike many people that I know, I'm scared that I will end up like my mother. My mother is funny and creative and stubborn, but I'm scared to become her because she yelled too much when I was young, and she stopped creating things, other than vegan desserts, years ago.
There is this old ad; I can’t even remember what
it’s for. There is a sepia-toned photo of a couple in the 60’s, and the heading
says “unconsciously declaring you alive”. And honestly I’m not sure that the
picture and the saying even go together, (This is bad advertising. That isn’t
even a full sentence and it doesn’t correlate. Whatever.), but I think about it
all the time. Parts of you unconsciously declare parts of me
I love it. I hate it.
We had just come back from the basketball game, and
you were leaving my apartment. You were about half way down the hall when I
caught up to you, because you’d forgotten your ring. I had it on because I love
the feel of it on my thumb, but I also love how it looks on you. You leaned
down and kissed me. I was wearing a ratty old t-shirt that you love, and you had
on a black and grey flannel. It was quick. Like something we do
everyday. You smelled like your moms laundry soap. And then you left to
go home and I went back to my roommates.
That moment in the hall is what I was thinking
about, that was all I was thinking about; when we were sitting on
opposite sides of the dining room table, and I realized that we weren’t
entirely friends anymore, and how that’s probably okay. But I couldn’t stop
thinking about that moment and why missing you would also just be the worst.
It was the beginning of January, and “I hate your
super negative attitude on us right now” was extremely upsetting to hear,
considering there wasn’t exactly an “us” anymore, and I didn’t really want to
be reminded of that.
I called you an ass the other day. Granted, I still
feel like it was generally called-for. But I do also recognize that we need to
treat each other better than we currently do. I love who I am 50% of the time
when I am with you, but I’m also super unsure about the other 50%, and that
Nighthawks, by Edward Hopper. That painting reminds
me of you.
I can think of specific eras in my life where I can
actually pinpoint where I’ve changed. Like when I found John Mayer, or when I
realized I could dress however I wanted, or when I discovered Amedeo Modigliani and
his painting of the woman in the blue scarf. That painting shows that woman
better than any photograph could. I think I have such a hard time describing a
specific moment of impact with you, because you are tied into all of those
other moments in some way or another. I hear “This is Gospel” by Panic! At the
Disco, and I think of you, and I think of how annoyed I get when my friends
think that they heard it from you first. I pop my clutch and I think of your
car, black beauty (I hate that name), and I think of black beauty and I think
of the grey-haired girl and I hate her too (because you like her.) And even
though I think I’ll always be internally conflicted about you, it’s okay
because I think I’ve figured more out about motives.
Let me explain: I had different motives when you
weren't single, to when you broke up with your girlfriend. And I have different
motives today than I did two weeks ago. I keep thinking about this talk I read
and the title was “what if love was our only motive?” and that sentence
radiates in my head, I think that if I hadn’t been so focused on other things,
we’d probably be in a different situation right about now.
Also though, sometimes your
motivation has to be self-interest. And it was around the
‘Mikey-Era-of-Modigliani’, where I realized that I was more passionate about
the painting of the woman in the blue scarf than I was about working at our
relationship and I finally had come to two conclusions: I realized that A. I
need good people. I need people who want to be my people. But also, that B:
Love should be the motive.
PS. Read this: fourtydaysofdating.com. It is aesthetically beautiful and equally genius. PPS. Another unrelated topic: someone told me I talk so fast that they thought I was from the East. is this a real thing? Asking for a friend.
I've always imagined that I would grow up and end
up with a boy who knew who he was as much as I do and I always thought that
when you got to college your face would match your age and that you would
figure out how to not cut your hands when chopping vegetables and that things
would fall perfectly into place. And we all thought that college would be a whole lot less listening to Fergie than it was, and I became more of a Person that I expected, and I didn't change the way I write bc obviously I'm still a fan of run-on sentences and can only write about boys. But it was last Monday and there were so many
tests and i wasn't thinking about astronomy or the creation
of the universe because I was thinking about how soft your lips are on mine and
how I've never liked chapstick-brand chapstick before. I'm thinking about how
you were the last one in my bed (not like that) and "THAT IS DEFINITELY AGAINST THE HONOR CODE". I'm thinking about YOU and I'm not
thinking about the surface temperature on Venus or Saturn and why it would be
such a bad idea to build a summer house there and I don't know why we're so bad
at being friends but I hope that you're still around when my sister comes home.
Ps. Sometimes, I think it would be very easy to love you, too.
And there has to be a boy somewhere who already is who he is supposed to be, and he's real and he isn't happy all of the time and he's passionate and he probably likes the zoo as much as I do and he will dance with me because he knows there is almost nothing that makes me more happy and I love him.