Two bombs.
I have nothing and everything to say. I am absolutely crushed. I am trembling. I don’t know where to begin.
Two days ago, on my birthday, my roommate asked me what I had dreamt the night before. I have been so strung out those past few days that I have been having the same recurring nightmares - or stressmares, as I like to call them. I told her the two things that were weighing the most on my mind; one which was far more likely to materialize, and the other, not so much. Imagine my surprise, this morning, when both bombs came crashing down on me, within the span of an hour. I was mentally prepared for one, and completely blindsided by the other. As I attempt to process these forces, I oscillate between emptiness and sharp, intense pain. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this level of instability, this overwhelming loss of control. The timing could not have been more destructive. I am overcome by overlapping sentiments of loneliness, shame, fear, and anger. My body is shaking. I don’t feel like it’s my own.
Two bombs were dropped on me this morning. Both made me feel naive, inferior, and isolated. Both are forcing me to look back and wonder what I should’ve done differently. Both are derailing, to very different extents, my upcoming plans.
When you pour so much of yourself into a (perhaps utopian) reverie, and it doesn’t work out, it’s not fun. But when you rebuild that reverie from the rubble, for the second time, and it all comes crashing down on you again, you start to wonder if you were delusional the whole time. Maybe I was. I want to say, with full confidence, that I care enough that I just want to see you happy. But that’s not entirely true. It really stings. Maybe, if things were different, it would’ve fallen apart from the get-go, but I wanted to find out myself. I suppose I will continue to wonder what could’ve been. You will probably never read this, and that’s okay. Since the day we met, you’ve confused the hell out of me. And all this time, I really thought it was worth the agony, because eventually, it would fall into place. But I’m not a second choice and I’m not a backup plan.
Two bombs were dropped on me this morning and I’m still processing them. I don’t know when I’m going to feel okay again, but I know I will. I expect scarring. I expect numbness. But through everything that has been thrown at me this past year, I have also uncovered a resilience within myself that I far too often underestimate. Pain is temporary. If I repeat it to myself enough times, I almost start to believe it.