Sunday, March 8, 2015

I'm trying frantically to live.

I am really bad at being in crowds. I am often good at being alone with myself, but just as often I am really, truly awful at being alone with myself.

Recently these two things collided: I was not somewhere on time because I am bad at being in crowds, but I figured I should be there anyway, so I tried and failed and ended up being alone with myself, which was pleasant in some ways and yet…

Really I just wanted to talk to someone. I wanted to be having a human connection but at that moment, it wasn’t happening. I didn’t want to go home and waste a beautiful night but I think mostly I didn’t want to go home and be alone in my room. Again.

So I wandered the city. It was a beautiful night. I walked along the river, and looped back around to walk up to the castle. I stood at the highest point in the city and I looked out over it, and it was really fucking cold and it was painfully beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes it feel like the wind has just been knocked out of you.

But why? Why are these the feelings I am having? Why have I been having them so goddamn persistently for…how many weeks now? Two? Three?

Somehow it hit me recently that I don’t get to stay here. That I have to leave. And that I really, sincerely, aggressively do not want to leave. I don’t want to part with my friends here. I don’t want to leave this landscape. I don’t want to leave this city where a bike is actually a viable form of transportation that doesn’t come with a high likelihood of being hit by a car. I don’t want to leave this place where I am within an hour’s walk of a beautiful, historically and spiritually significant place that I can go to and just be. I just don’t want to go.

 Totally went there.

So it hit me that this is happening, and it hit me that I only have a couple of months left to really live the life I came here to live. And I have been frantically running around and trying to live and feeling like I stumbling and fumbling and generally failing and potentially doing something stupid. But I’ve only got the one chance. I’ve got to live.

I have been frantically running around and trying to live and I have exhausted myself. I am somewhat worn, and my patience is running even thinner than usual (which is why people who have been choosing condescension as their mode of interaction with me have been getting a whole of “GO FUCK YOURSELF” in return). I no longer feel like I have the time or the energy to put up with people that I don’t thoroughly enjoy.

Only three months left. It’s why I felt like I should go out to a club when in actuality I have only ever enjoyed clubs when I’m drunk. There is only one exception to the “I don’t do crowds well” thing and that is Faerieworlds because it’s motherfucking Faerieworlds. But I thought I should try…then I didn’t do a very good job of trying…then I ended up wandering through the city feeling eerily similar to the way I do at the end of American Beauty: it’s so beautiful it hurts.

The feeling only goes away if I’m with someone, if I’m sleeping, or if I’m writing (which I haven’t been doing much of these days). I kind of makes me stumble around not knowing what to do with myself.

It feels borderline existential, this. “How do I live?” I wonder, and I’m not sure how to answer that. Climb a mountain? See a new country? Have a lot of great sex? Meet a lot of new great people? Make a lot of memories with them even though I may never see them again?

How do people live fully? How do you go into the world and soak it up like a plant soaks up water? I don’t feel like I’ve ever been particularly good at this. I’m a writer. By nature I spend a lot of time just…sitting and thinking things on paper. Not very adventurous. Not very living-full. Even if I’m getting better at figuring out how to do this, I still only have such a limited time. Even if I were the most skilled person at the world at soaking up the world, I’ll never be able to soak up enough in three months.

I’ll never be able to climb enough mountains. See enough new places. Have enough great sex. Meet enough new people. Make enough memories. Do whatever else it is you’re supposed to do to live life fully and then move on.

Why is there never enough time?

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