It's a conflicting feelings.
What was once familiar is now so foreign.
I was ecstatic to return to the Bay yesterday. I was energized, bouncing in my seat, and stoked to be seeing JC after 3 years. THREE years.
From SFO, we headed directly to Berkeley . I was enjoying every hill, every flower, every damn tree we'd pass. I was even loving the bridges.
Once we parked on the street JC lived in, I started to feel sad... with some excitement. The most paradoxical thing I've experienced so far. How can someone feel sad and excited at the same time? Leave it to me to feel that shit.
Anyway, I did that thing where I focused on remembering every little thing around me... to enjoy the moment, because I knew I'd be returning to this memory in the future, that this would become one of my valued memories.
As we sat outside, waiting for JC to meet us outside of his shared apartment with Em (his girlfriend), I was hoping ever so badly JC would be the same JC as always-- the hyper, silly, kind JC.
He was so pale... So incredibly pale. And our hug was awkward. I... didn't feel joy, if that makes any sense. Often, when I hug people, I feel as if my heart's going to beat out of my chest... or I feel the blood rushing to my face... I feel like I want to hold tight and never let go.
Not this time.
I was hugging... an inanimate object. I hug my pillow tighter than I hugged JC. I feel more emotion when hugging a pillow.
I think about it now and I want to cry.
Was it JC who was lacking emotion? Was it ME? Was it... both?
We small-talked... and we all know how I feel about smalltalk.
JC took us to some burrito place on campus so he and Pacemaker could have breakfast as we waited on Em and their friend John.
I could see it in JC's eyes that he was happy to see me... Like when you look at your sibling who lives abroad... Or your nice aunt... Or like-a-sibling-close-cousin-- that calm gratitude and happiness you feel.
And I was quiet and sad.
Here's my friend who knew me like the palm of his hand for so many years, living this extraordinary life in a country that captured his heart, and there I was... a sad dreamer girl who often contemplates what life would be like without her.
After perhaps half an hour, Em and John showed up.
I hate John.
He's so disconnected and shallow... and boring. He's very good looking... but who gives a shit when I have more fun petting donkeys at farms (not a euphemism. I really did pet a couple of pregnant midget donkeys yesterday) than I do trying to converse with this cute guy? I first met John back in 2010, when JC visited me with his friends and I went to bed frightened this guy would try to murder us all in our sleep. He was a prick then. I tried being nice to him, but he's one of those humans who can't register sarcasm... and shit never ends well when I meet those people. He was also, as previously stated, a shallow guy. He quickly dismissed me as undesirable because I was too fat for a girl, and would roll his eyes each time I talked and acted as if I were made of nitric acid or other corrosive material (though I wish I WERE, I am not. I was just fat and he didn't want me falling in love with him... you know, 'cause he's so good-looking and all).
Yesterday, guess who was all over whom.
Yeah. Not me.
That resentment issue of mine popped out and I didn't even direct a word towards him (don't get me wrong, I also didn't make shit awkward, I just minded my own business and when he'd be talking about whatever fucking boring topic of his choosing, I'd just walk away to snap photos... or shoveled vegetables in my mouth... or sipped my wine... or petted and baby-talked pregnant midget donkeys).
Whenever I'd talk, he would always try and add his two cents, to which my response would be along the lines of "Oh yeah?"
Whenever he'd walk too close to me, I'd be childish and do something stupid, like skip away or come to a complete stop Whenever he'd stand next to me, I'd walk away acting as if it were imperative I stretch my hamstrings at that precise moment.
I'm resentful. Whatever. Moving on.
So, after gathering at the burrito place,we took off to Sonoma and enjoyed our bacchus... Well... some more than others. I'm not a big wino, yet always ended up being the person who was served WAY too fucking much... So I was hammered after three glasses (we drank about 8). This also explains my fascination with the midget donkeys-- one of the vineyards we visited had a couple out back, and me being the animal-lover I am, couldn't resist and I wound up out there caressing/babying the little cuties while the rest of the party went out and did grown up shit like talk about different oaks and shit like that.
In an attempt to sober up, we headed into the town and grabbed some food.
While we scattered to hit up our favorite food groups (some went for cheese, others fudge, others beef, I had nothing), JC and I had a moment where he grabbed me by my shoulders and softly shook me.
"Something's different. You're different. You're more quiet than usual. You're different. Snap out of it!"
It's when I remembered-- I haven't spoken to him since the whole rejection letters of 2011 really fucked me up. Unlike previous years, he wasn't around to counsel me on 2011, to hear me out, and the space between us only grew exponentially worse.
Of course I'm different... the times he saw me I still had dreams and believed my hopeful nature would lead me places. He hasn't experienced the broken AnoMALIE. The dead AnoMALIE.
It was also weird for me to stand there and note how all of our lives have changed since February of 2010.
It was numbing to see how my two buddies, my little brothers, were now grown men with serious girlfriends and futures... yet I was still standing there clueless and alone, like always... just another girl, lost... slipped through the cracks.
I'm different. Yes. Yes I am.
What was once familiar is now so foreign.
I was ecstatic to return to the Bay yesterday. I was energized, bouncing in my seat, and stoked to be seeing JC after 3 years. THREE years.
From SFO, we headed directly to Berkeley . I was enjoying every hill, every flower, every damn tree we'd pass. I was even loving the bridges.
Once we parked on the street JC lived in, I started to feel sad... with some excitement. The most paradoxical thing I've experienced so far. How can someone feel sad and excited at the same time? Leave it to me to feel that shit.
Anyway, I did that thing where I focused on remembering every little thing around me... to enjoy the moment, because I knew I'd be returning to this memory in the future, that this would become one of my valued memories.
As we sat outside, waiting for JC to meet us outside of his shared apartment with Em (his girlfriend), I was hoping ever so badly JC would be the same JC as always-- the hyper, silly, kind JC.
He was so pale... So incredibly pale. And our hug was awkward. I... didn't feel joy, if that makes any sense. Often, when I hug people, I feel as if my heart's going to beat out of my chest... or I feel the blood rushing to my face... I feel like I want to hold tight and never let go.
Not this time.
I was hugging... an inanimate object. I hug my pillow tighter than I hugged JC. I feel more emotion when hugging a pillow.
I think about it now and I want to cry.
Was it JC who was lacking emotion? Was it ME? Was it... both?
We small-talked... and we all know how I feel about smalltalk.
JC took us to some burrito place on campus so he and Pacemaker could have breakfast as we waited on Em and their friend John.
I could see it in JC's eyes that he was happy to see me... Like when you look at your sibling who lives abroad... Or your nice aunt... Or like-a-sibling-close-cousin-- that calm gratitude and happiness you feel.
And I was quiet and sad.
Here's my friend who knew me like the palm of his hand for so many years, living this extraordinary life in a country that captured his heart, and there I was... a sad dreamer girl who often contemplates what life would be like without her.
After perhaps half an hour, Em and John showed up.
I hate John.
He's so disconnected and shallow... and boring. He's very good looking... but who gives a shit when I have more fun petting donkeys at farms (not a euphemism. I really did pet a couple of pregnant midget donkeys yesterday) than I do trying to converse with this cute guy? I first met John back in 2010, when JC visited me with his friends and I went to bed frightened this guy would try to murder us all in our sleep. He was a prick then. I tried being nice to him, but he's one of those humans who can't register sarcasm... and shit never ends well when I meet those people. He was also, as previously stated, a shallow guy. He quickly dismissed me as undesirable because I was too fat for a girl, and would roll his eyes each time I talked and acted as if I were made of nitric acid or other corrosive material (though I wish I WERE, I am not. I was just fat and he didn't want me falling in love with him... you know, 'cause he's so good-looking and all).
Yesterday, guess who was all over whom.
Yeah. Not me.
That resentment issue of mine popped out and I didn't even direct a word towards him (don't get me wrong, I also didn't make shit awkward, I just minded my own business and when he'd be talking about whatever fucking boring topic of his choosing, I'd just walk away to snap photos... or shoveled vegetables in my mouth... or sipped my wine... or petted and baby-talked pregnant midget donkeys).
Whenever I'd talk, he would always try and add his two cents, to which my response would be along the lines of "Oh yeah?"
Whenever he'd walk too close to me, I'd be childish and do something stupid, like skip away or come to a complete stop Whenever he'd stand next to me, I'd walk away acting as if it were imperative I stretch my hamstrings at that precise moment.
I'm resentful. Whatever. Moving on.
So, after gathering at the burrito place,we took off to Sonoma and enjoyed our bacchus... Well... some more than others. I'm not a big wino, yet always ended up being the person who was served WAY too fucking much... So I was hammered after three glasses (we drank about 8). This also explains my fascination with the midget donkeys-- one of the vineyards we visited had a couple out back, and me being the animal-lover I am, couldn't resist and I wound up out there caressing/babying the little cuties while the rest of the party went out and did grown up shit like talk about different oaks and shit like that.
In an attempt to sober up, we headed into the town and grabbed some food.
While we scattered to hit up our favorite food groups (some went for cheese, others fudge, others beef, I had nothing), JC and I had a moment where he grabbed me by my shoulders and softly shook me.
"Something's different. You're different. You're more quiet than usual. You're different. Snap out of it!"
It's when I remembered-- I haven't spoken to him since the whole rejection letters of 2011 really fucked me up. Unlike previous years, he wasn't around to counsel me on 2011, to hear me out, and the space between us only grew exponentially worse.
Of course I'm different... the times he saw me I still had dreams and believed my hopeful nature would lead me places. He hasn't experienced the broken AnoMALIE. The dead AnoMALIE.
It was also weird for me to stand there and note how all of our lives have changed since February of 2010.
It was numbing to see how my two buddies, my little brothers, were now grown men with serious girlfriends and futures... yet I was still standing there clueless and alone, like always... just another girl, lost... slipped through the cracks.
I'm different. Yes. Yes I am.
No comments:
Post a Comment