I don’t know why I’ve turned into such a weepy mess of late, but I’m really grateful for this blog where I can vent without boring my readers who know me in real life. I discovered this song on Pratiti’s blog and it set me off again.
“Elope with me, Miss Private, and we’ll sail around the world
I will be your Ferdinand and you my wayward girl
How many nights of talking in hotel rooms can you take?
How many nights of limping around on pagan holidays?
Oh, elope with me in private and we’ll set something ablaze
A trail for the devil to erase ”
I don’t know why being in love should make me this unhappy. Unrequited love has always been a drag. If I could, I’d flick the switch on in your brain that’d make you feel the same, that’d make you understand this desperate, slightly insane mess that you’ve made of me. “Love me”, I’d say. “Love me the way I love you. Irrationally, clumsily, too much. Please feel the same. I could make you so happy, and you could make me happy too.”
Everything comes full circle, and my would-be-knight from many summers ago could rest easy knowing that I now go through this awful feeling, only he wouldn’t, cuz he’s such a nice guy, even when he’s trying not to be.
I’m terrified. I can’t write this off as high school bullshit anymore. I hate growing up. I hate Aristophanes’ legend of missing halves. I hate that the more organized I get in my professional life, the more I seem to fall apart in my head.
I’m really grateful for my friends and my family. I’m really grateful for the opportunities that I have, and for myself. It should be enough, but it isn’t. I want you. I will be miserable if you leave, please stay.