I've moved through depression, am working my way through anger, bypassed denial and bargaining and am well on my way to acceptance. But it still sucks.
I had a really good day. I mean, nothing quite spectacular occurred but I just felt good. I wasn't sad, I wasn't angry, I wasn't even moody and for an actress that's a big accomplishment.
But then this wave of restlessness hit me and I started to wonder what was up.
I wasn't sure if it was just my hormones or my lack of consumed protein or maybe dehydration or I just needed to go for a run but something left me with an overwhelming sense of ickiness.
That would be the technical term.
And then I drew a parallel.
The restlessness I felt, the desire to do something but not quite sure what or go somewhere but unsure where left me in an all too familiar zone of indecisiveness. This is just how I'd felt all those months ago. And trying to shake this current incurable restlessness reminded me of shaking off my former state and that made me even more restless.
Damn vicious cycle.
Someone tell the Carnie I want off this ride.
The problem with romance is that it is an addictively unique high. It's impossible to replicate and it taints the once colorful palate of isolation you used to revel in. Once you've been away from it long enough you again experience heightened joys from simple things; from solitude, from unprompted happenstance, from books, from the serene corners of nature you hide in.
But after indulging in it intensely it's hard to find anything quite comparable. Suddenly the things you preferred seem lacking somehow and that annoys you almost as much as the fact that you can't pick up the phone and tell him about the funny thing that happened today.
Why do things have to change before you're finished enjoying them? Why do there have to be so many arbitrary rules? Can't we write them as we go along, as we see fit? Can't we dare to not be like the rest of them?
Le sigh.
I remember sitting on a curb with the Fragile Inconsistent and he was determined we were gonna be different, that we wouldn't be like the rest of the world, the patterns that unfolded again and again. No, we would rise above them and we would prevail!
Of course, we never talk anymore and shortly thereafter we had a terribly ugly falling out. But for that moment, for that glorious hour, minute, second, whatever, we were unlike the masses. Or at least deluded enough to believe we were.
Now I'm smart enough to know I'm no different, I just miss my friend.
If he was your best friend at work then why'd you leave? My new coworker asked me.
Time for a change of scene, I lied.
Change; so damn opportunistic, so damn costly.
What are you going to do today? my Mother asked me.
Well, I need to clean my room but I don't want to.
Some things never change, Mother smiled.
Yeah, some things don't ever change.
Only the things you don't want to change seem to be incapable of not changing.
That Change, she sure is one clever bitch.
I guess just too much of a good thing can't be good for you. Or at least that's what the masses say.
And everything we had was just too perfect. That's what he'd say.
Guess it's better we all suck it up, put aside our dissatisfaction and box it away next to our desires and join the rest of the world in our quest for nullified mediocrity.
Who wants something different anyway.
Greatness is overrated. Give me complacency any day.
It works so well after all.
Aren't you just giddy with satsfaction?
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