Despite our oft-rocky relationship, my friend and I are still really close.
As such, I’m horribly sad that he leaves for 6 months tomorrow. I mean, tears. And for those of you who know you well enough, you know that I don’t cry. Not that I don’t believe in crying or anything. I’m just not a crier.
On top of my already growing sadness, I’m listening to Imogen Heap’s “Speeding Cars.” This is not helping the situation at all.
Dreaming, for example. Most of the time, my dreams consist of memories or of friends with whom I’ve lost contact or to whom I very rarely speak. In the end, I usually just end up sadder for the experience. I always remember these dreams or at least the way that I feel when I wake up. I get a brief glimpses of the dream about midday, and it really brings me down. I never quite get the whole picture, but I get enough of an ache somewhere in me that spurs me to think about that person or situation. I’m happy for a bit, then I realize how much we’ve grown apart.
I also really don’t care for those moments of clarity in which you realize how diminutive you are. Now, I’m not trying to say that I think myself to be some big-shot or anything. I’m talking about when you realize that you’re not what/who you want yourself to be. What’s worse is that you realize that you’re able to achieve your goals, but you never seems to make it. They’re never lofty, just slightly out of your abilities.
I feel that if I exert myself ever so slightly more, things would take a turn for the better. I’m not really so much discouraged as am I sedated. Just here. I need something to bring me back from whatever wasteland I’ve wander into and take me where I need to be. I know what/who that is. It’s just a matter of my asking him. I’m too ashamed.