brain drain 2/9

I hate when I post something depressing, and I look back, and it makes me sad. Because then I know that its not that I was particularly sad before. Why does thinking have to be equated with sadness?

I miss so much. I miss all the friends I've lost, and I miss when we were all close, and I miss staying up talking until 4am. I miss loving without thinking. And I know it will only get worse.

I'm scared for next year. Why is that so hard for me to admit? I'm not terrified, but every once in awhile, I worry. I don't think it will be difficult to make new friends (it will happen eventually) or find my place (again...time) but I am afraid to miss home. I'm afraid of that aching feeling when I miss the past to grow and grow. I'm afraid of that homesickness that I felt a few summers ago, when I wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in his arms.

I'm so used to relying on someone. I have come to terms with that. But this year, I've forced myself to be independent. I know I can do it here...safe at home, with 500 things to distract me. I just don't know if I can do it in a new place, with new people, and new feelings. Can I still be my own best friend?

I don't adjust like other people. I don't reach out to everyone immediately. I sit, and I wait for people to reach out to me. And then I dig deep, and I don't try to know anyone else until I've gotten to know the first person completely. Will this hurt me?

I have so many questions.

I don't want to leave unfinished business. I hate that I can't tell you. I want to know about your life, and I want you to know about mine. I want to be at peace on your couch while you play the guitar, instead of here alone, with only one question to keep me company: when will it get better? Will it get better? I could be like her, and I could force my way into your life again. I could play for control. I could demand that you talked everything over with me. It's just not me. This is the most I'll do...I just want you to know I miss you.

I wish you would be straight with me. I wish I could see through ambiguity. I wish I could read you. I hate that two people, and the same time, hit me straight on, and for the same reason. It frustrates me more than almost anything when I can't figure people out. Call me spoiled - I'm used to knowing people perfectly. But for some reason, I can't, and it kills me. The secrecy kills me. The constant changes in dynamic kill me. The feeling of being the subordinate one in the relationship kills me. I'll admit it.

I don't know if I'm a good friend. I don't know if I'm a good person. But I keep on trying. I know that is one thing that I can say for myself.

I will not give up. I will not stop thinking.