for a girl with an ongoing identity crisis, i know of two things: i have a boyfriend who loves me and i have a close group of friends (a privilege as it seems, as most people at our age/older seem to label superficial acquaintances as their “friends” because they have none).
id like to think that i am one of the lucky ones – to have people to cry with, people to talk to, people to rely on, people to go on endless shit rants about those we despise and judge. i have people who truly give a shit, and maybe thats the reason i dont feel the need to impress or reach out, the reason people need to come to me instead of vice versa. id like to think that in a way, my friends shaped me into who i am today and im afraid of what i could lose.
having close friends comes with a price (or not a “price”, but a commitment maybe) – as cliche as this sounds, friendships like a plant. i picture my venus fly trap plant child, try to remember to keep the ceramic red pot filled with distilled water, let it soak so its well and nurtured and taken care of. friendships deserve attention (unless the friendship was meant to die, and that happens).
i cant tell if i pay too little attention to the point of ignorance, or if i pay too much, overthinking and analyzing every little moment.
we live with two of our friends – and my boyfriend and i cant see eye-to-eye on when to move out. while hed be more than happy to pack up our shit and move out in october at the absolute latest, im not opposed to staying for a bit longer. maybe underneath the hesitance, theres an underlying reason. maybe it all comes down to timing, lack of time and claustrophobia of time.
is it too soon?
i need time. more time.
its hard for me to admit why its so difficult for me to move, why im hesitant and im questioning everything lately. i dont know how to tell my boyfriend that im afraid ill feel lonely once we move out together, that im sometimes not as sure about us as he seems to be, or even as certain about us as i was when we started dating.
my minds a mess, and im not quite sure what to make of it.
is this loneliness supposed to last forever? when do you know that the rise and the peak are over, and all that remains is the inevitable, doomed fall?
sometimes i wonder if were all just lying to ourselves when we hold onto the belief that we as a couple will last forever. maybe we hold on for the comfort, the last beacon of hope in a sad, empty world.
maybe its when my boyfriend confessed that he thinks he loves me more than i love him and the pessimist in me wonders if there is an ounce of truth in that statement, only for him to take it back later when i press him on why he feels this way.
and sometimes, i wonder if we stay – stagnant – because starting all over sounds too intimidating and taxing, and we choose to settle from our shared laziness when each day we feel further and further apart. its in the small moments, and i cant help overthinking.
and i wonder if its easier to cut ties with everyone in my universe (friends, boyfriend and all), because sometimes we all need to press to reset button; new city, new identity, new posse and all in a very walter white “breaking bad” fashion.
am i one of those destined to feel lonely in a room surrounded by people, their banter between themselves becoming white noise and im always on the periphery, trying to make sense on why im always the last to be in the know, why i feel like i need to put thrice the amount of effort for little return?
i wonder why i even matter, what the point of this existence is when it seems like i dont have a voice and ive never understood the feeling of “content” or how to reach it. highs and lows – always.
i dont know what the point of this word vomit even means, whether im actually lucky by having people to call friends, acting out satisfaction when im not and im over all this, or i just tell myself that to get by.
one day, ill move to a different city, cut all ties with my past and present, change my name and rewrite my identity as a whole so i can be someone else, anyone else.
one day, ill stop lying to myself, pretending that im significant when im just one more number on the census, how many souls exist on this universe, as if my existence even really mattered in the first place.