I would like to believe that people of any gender preference know what it feels like the very moment right before someone breaks up with you. It's the moment where his or her eyes are distant, and they know that there is nothing left on their end, and it sends you into this full-body panic. Like a rush of adrenaline, or equalled in artificial highs, the party is suddently filled with enormous confusion and an amalgamation of a myriad of feelings. Everything is precisely unclear. Something you said? Did? Heard? Expressed in any way? And the words "I don't love you anymore," haven't even been spoken.
Say, as many times it is true, you no longer love them either, this spiraling feeling does not cease to exist, but instead manifests as a bout of rage and jealousy that you didn't get all distant first.
The pre-breakup is such an astounding mess, really. Probably why breakups involve tears. What's stranger is feeling this disaster of guilt, confusion, and basically all the stages of grief all at once, when you are single. And not even recently single, so it's not memories, or a rehash. It's just some amazingly perplex rush of insecurity in every cell of your being, plus a good deal of envy that I didn't say it first.
All goodbyes and personal item exchanges and closure remains, and you know you just wont like consuming anything more nutritious than water, or less intoxicating than 45 proof. And you get all thin, and almost prettier (subconsciously), in that newly single way; in the mood for anything that reassures your self-worth.
This is how I feel. Single for a year, yet just dumped and by no one in particular. And I'm in Finland. Maybe I am also an actress. And in this parallel reality I like Ingmar Bergman.
Strange, right? Perhaps I am experiencing one of those continuum transferrences, where in another time and places, Finland perhaps, I am about to get broken up with. Perhaps I have a double life. Although, if we are assuming that infinite possibilities are happening at every moment every day, I have infinite "lifes" so to speak, and in one of them that is happening.
On a more relatable note, I have had some intense dreams lately. Three were grotesque nightmares, and the last one was sort of this magical experience, finding out a dead relative wasn't actually dead. I think I learned that I would no longer cry of joy from the beauty of a song written about me, but the pleasure of regaining the ability to tell someone that you loved things you wish you had told them.
So scared I have sold out or something. Here Lies post summertime: thumbs up? thumbs down? Biting your thumb at me (sir)?
A side note. Not forgotten, just excised from the original text. I met someone from the future. I kid you not. She was in the middle of some sort of hysterical breakdown, and having been some sort of master of these, I tried to calm her down.
ReplyDeleteI thought her situation may as well have been problems with transitioning into school, but she later began to explain that she was most upset that everyone was telling her it was 2009. I cannot express the level of concern I had for her. Though, I did seem to take it as a sign that, one, I think I am going into the correct profession (finally), and two, that other people have issues with the time-space continuum as well.
She mentioned that it was actually 2010 and she had done this all before, and that no one seemed to believe her current situation was as such. She referenced George Orwell. The poor girl was only 17 in 2009, and is 18 in her reality.