I apologize deeply for my prolonged absence but I’ve been caught in a whirlwind of events and the consequences that follow those events. Obviously in the prolapsed time, I’ve fallen in love then found that she was emotionally unavailable but still willing to tempt and have her flyaway to the other side of the globe. Meanwhile I’ve started the gears in conforming to societal pressures. I’m not sure if I’ll be successful but it’ll make a interesting summer project.
It’s a new day. Just eighteen minutes old. But as the promise of a new day playfully tugs at the end of my trench coat, my thoughts turn decidedly inward as I ponder the latest development in my turbulent love life. I’ve experienced a vast majority of the sorrowful emotions that accompany heartbreak and while none are pleasant, they are all decidedly different enough to remind me that as jaded as I’ve become, I’m still in search of another hand to grasp.
While I’d love to say my life is a endless loop of clichés, the only common denominator is that I keep falling for the wrong women. Whether they belong to someone else, or they desire to continue this immature charade of casual intimacy, I find myself falling for women who are emotionally unavailable.
Yet at the end of the day I don my trench coat and make my way to the door. Knowing fully well that the tears that run down my eyes aren’t from fatigue.
My world is a world without perspective. I define myself with academic awards and reputable fashion designers while having very little attachment to my personal accomplishments. My long term goal of attaining a JD/MBA is merely a shield as not to associate myself with the masses of average citizenry. My lexicon is merely a subversive method of proclaiming my intellectual superiority. In a world where happiness is defined by human connections and relative interactions with other beings, I gaze into a world of which I understand very little but cannot bring myself to resignation. So instead I pass down critical judgement and anxious await for my own demise.
Heartbreak is inevitable. In a world with seven billion other souls, it’s astonishing how many people are swirled into a world of ambiguity, lies and chaos. The clichés are endless and it’s maddening to think that while we bemoan the progress of various issues when we have yet to deal with our own humanity. But I guess the larger question is why is the female population of the city of angels so hell bent on destroying my optimism? Have I unknowingly committed a crime against humanity that must be paid in misery and disappointment? The questions are absolutely endless and I’m still waiting on a backlog of responses from the universe. I’m not coherent right now. I need clarity with a dash of reason.
While I primarily chronicle my angst, confusion and happenings of my life, today I received terrible news. My sister has been invited to summer school. And while the optimists may point out this may be the summer school which is offered to accelerated bloomers, it sadly is the worst type of summer school. The school’s letter itself stated it as “Intervention Summer School”! While intervention summer school may be a more politically correct way of saying that your child is one of the children that were left behind, I can’t believe that they would use a world with such negative connotations. Because in my mind I can think of two types of intervention that are the most commonplace and ultimately what a majority of people must interpret it as. The first being addicts. You sit together as friends and family and gently break it to someone that they have a problem and that they need to go to a rehabilitation center. The second being unruly countries. Problems in Libya? Well I’m pretty sure that the UN isn’t conducting a tea party over there.
You and I. Our humor is peculiar. Neither of us can dance but we still met on a dance floor. Now I can’t sleep without thinking about holding hands with you. Is this love? Have I fallen in love with you or just the idea of you? To be frank I’m a little bit tired of the age old cliché of falling in love with an idea. Because while I’ll never disappoint an idea, it’ll always disappoint me. But at the moment, the idea of you simply makes me smile!
No I haven’t been sick. But for the last two days, Tumblr has been going through some engineering hiccups and I have lost the moment to preserve those thoughts. Now I stand at a crossroads at my place of employment. The mood is decidedly tense and my blood runs cold at the anxiety of it all.
I stand at a new age. Not a age of change or a age of revolution. I stand here being two decades old. While I don’t know if this is a quarter life-crisis, I feel a sense of forlornness overcome me like gentle waves on a deserted beach. The relationships are still hollow. My smiles are still artificial. I need to find someone whom I truly respect and is willing to give me direction beyond succeeding in a materialistic manner. While it would be luxurious for someone to comfort me, I don’t need comfort. I need reassurance. I need to stop being the most conceited person in the room.
For today’s venture I was overwhelmed by the advertising of the upcoming Valentine’s day. I understand that Valentine’s day is a nationally acclaimed day for florists and chocolatiers to move into the black but the sheer amount of red, laces and light-hearted terms of endearment take on too much importance when love doesn’t follow a schedule. It doesn’t align itself with any time, place or holiday. It’s found when a connection is established between two wandering souls.
This is why I’ll wait past February 14th to find love. Take that See’s Candy!
If endings compliment beginnings, why do we initiate beginnings? What drives us to jump into a dark abyss that we know little about? While the commercialized Valentine’s Day approaches, I’m curious if I should invoke my courage before the fateful day or if stick to my long-term plan. A possible downside of this being my inevitable but unfortunate knack of falling in love with the idea of person and not the actual person. But I digress.
Today I woke up, went to Bay Cities, dropped off a sandwich to my brother, baked Mimi her birthday Lava Cake and went to work. A day condensed in a sentence. John Mayer would be proud!
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