silver4's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Silence and WOL,1 The silence is deafening. Some of the best tears fall in the shower. I wonder what I have come to be. I wonder who I am. I wonder why I am this way. I wonder, is it even that bad? There are other women out there like me, correct? Other women who do not quite have it all figured out, and who are reaching, reaching. I watched Les Mis on Sunday afternoon. Came across it as I perused my DVD collection for something to pass the time. I always cry at the end. It never fails. This is the newer version. I also cry when Fantine sings her song after she has basically given up. All I have to do is watch that part and the last twenty minutes of the movie and I morph into a crying mess. It makes me feel something sad towards myself, not necessarily the characters. The story becomes irrelevant, and I feel the sadness, I own it, I feel the despair and the inner conflict and the desire for things to have turned out differently. I gain a sense that the comfort I seek is never going to come (although I cannot justifiably think or believe in such absolutes, but when I am in that moment, all rational thinking becomes irrelevant), and I am to endure whatever this struggle is in a realm of solitude. I do not relate to the whole abandonment of child situation, but I don't know... Somehow in my world, I feel a loss. Then my mind starts jetting along various tangents, and I think about all of the romantic misses that I have come across, all of the failures that I have encountered, and I take a glance again at the fact that 90% of my female friends are married... naturally my thought processes switch over to analysis of why I am alone, why can't I find someone, why can't I have this happiness, why must I wait so long, what did I do wrong, what am I doing wrong? I know exactly what I am doing wrong, but aside from that. There is more, there is always more to it. And I shed my tears in the shower and tell the water my sorrows and ask my why's and when's and who's and where's. Where is he, I asked. Whoever he is. Where is he and why is he taking so damn long to find me? And when it gets down to it, I just don't want to be emotional. I do not want to stop and feel anything. I'm not feeling like a person. I feel like... an avenue. A means to an end. A distraction. An option. A past-time. I want things to be different. I suppose I am the one in charge of making that happen for myself, correct? I can regroup. I can stop myself from being distracted by all of this. I swear, every time I let my emotions come to the surface, I lose common sense and strength. Can't have that. But the silence. I understand and appreciate that there are rules to all of this. I do. But at the same time, I did not start this. It is feeling all too similar to the T situation, but I know for a fact that it will not be the same, because, well...that was a different time. Things were much different back then. I simply must not be weak. The rules are non-specific, but they are there, and the silence destroys me. I am trying not to care for him, I really am. But then he spoke of what is next, and he spoke of what is current, and I felt as if I shouldn't be me for this one. That I shouldn't be the indifferent, emotionless, content version of me this time around. That I was not to be full of action and flirtation, of seduction and satisfaction. That, instead, I am allowed to be...me. And the goofy, nerdy, dorky, charming, clumsy, attitudy, shining, smiling, spirited, loving, adoring, and somehow sexy in spite of all of that version of me can come along for the ride. And that is when I am the most vulnerable. And that is when things are scary, and that is when the silence hurts me, because I wasn't intending to let that all out. I was okay with the indifferent, emotionless version. This causes an inner conflict, and I don't like it. I don't do well with it. I'm done reflecting about this. This wasn't even prompted by alcohol. Shake it off. Twenty push-ups. Oh, that's what I did before! I forget for which guy, but each time I caught myself thinking pathetically about him, I had to drop and do push-ups. Alright. Accepted. 11:16 p.m. - 2014-06-09 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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