There’s a feature on the iPhone called “Do Not Disturb.” A door hang at a hotel. A setting on your instant messenger. They all have the same goal in mind. Space. Quiet time. The ability to choose who we want to interact with, or not, and when. A concept I am very unfamiliar with, normally. I adore mundane conversation & constant human contact. I yawn, you know. You giggle, I’m why. Until 24 hours ago. When I blew a gasket. Or flipped a switch. When something changed.
I literally do not want to deal with another human being right now. Or, their opinions anyway. I used to crave this validation from my friends and family about every aspect of my life. Is this boy cute? What does this (copy & paste) mean? Help me justify why he isn’t what I expected but still what I want and need. Should I take this job? Should I fly across the country? Chocolate or Vanilla.
Now, I don’t have the desire to even entertain the ideas of others. Not even long enough to disagree with them. I barely have a capacity to understand my own thoughts and feelings.
I’m a hott mess! I am!
I’m scared. and I’m upset. and I’m tired of things not being fair. And I don’t need you, or you, or you, to tell me about the dragon’s you’ve slain and the brighter days on the other side of the treacherous mountain.
I just need to feel this way. I need to be scared and tired and upset. and I don’t need your assurance that it’s “just a phase,” or a defense mechanism. And truthfully, I don’t even need you to agree with me that sometimes life’s shitty this way. I truly don’t want anything to do with anyone.
I couldn’t tell you exactly where it’s all stemming from. A new leaf at work, maybe. Or my mother’s worsening medical condition. Or the fact that I am truly losing hope for the fairy-tale. I don’t know why. I just witnessed a beautiful Wedding, and have 2 more before the end of the year. I’ve been witness to two proposals. And #MCM, and #WCW and babies & love and joy constantly. I’m reminded everyday that we aren’t all “rules,” but still I’m starting to lose my faith. And I don’t know why. It’s like I’m almost mad at myself that I’ve held onto this idea for so long; let it guide my life. It’s embarrassing. Every wrong turn or fated coincidence I chalk up to love and fairy-tales. But in reality, those things just don’t happen. If you lose your shoe at midnight, they say, you’re probably just drunk. But at the same time, admitting that I truly believe it might not happen for me – although very relieving – is breaking my heart.
And I’m tired, I’m so tired, of everyone – when I admit this – feeding me the same ol line: It’ll come when you least expect it; when you aren’t looking.
I don’t want it to come when I’m not expecting it. I don’t want you to tell me it’s coming. As if it’s some sort of disease to accept that you’re single. I want to be done with it. Put it to bed. Toss it in the garbage like a security blanket or binky from childhood you realize one day you just don’t need to make you happy anymore.
I want to you to realize that I’m fine. That I don’t need any sort of “time” to come. That this is my time, right now, this is my life. And even though it may be dreadful to admit, life isn’t always incomplete without a fairy-tale; even if it breaks your heart.
-thank you for teaching me that sometimes ordinary life looks a lot like fate, even when it’s not. especially then.