June 5, 2016

I have fallen into the basest, most childish pit of unrequited affection and I hate myself so much for it.

I'm sleeping badly, having bad dreams, not too hungry, listless, bored, depressed ... all over a man. It's so disgusting and ridiculous. This is what I have spent my entire young adulthood laughing at and being grossed out by - all of these foolish girls who drag around on Pinterest and Tumblr, posting ridiculously moody song lyrics and low-contrast stock photos to try to convey to an uninterested world the depths of their misplaced affection. That's not supposed to be me. I'm a strong, confident, independent, vibrant, passionate woman who does not need the completion of a male counterpart.

And yet ... here I am.

I know he's not the spiritual leader I want to marry; I know he believes in things I never could; I know I want bigger things out of life than he ever will. And still, here I am. I am no better than the singers of those insipid love songs or the distressed damsels of those ridiculous love stories. I'm just another silly, silly girl.

He doesn't miss me. That's what adds embarrassing insult to bruising injury. He doesn't miss me. He hasn't contacted me in almost 3 weeks. He's been busy traveling, making new memories, trying new foods, and sightseeing. His Facebook feed is full of candid snapshots of him laughing, posing with landmarks, playing with his friends' kids, and reuniting with old (female) friends. He doesn't know or care what I've been up to. If I text him when he comes back next week - as I desperately want to but am trying not to let myself - he might agree to hang for dinner; he'll be polite and listen as I tell him all my good news and the things I've been learning while he's been gone; but he won't really care.

I should stand up and shake my finger at myself and deliver the maiden-aunt tirade I would deliver to a friend acting this silly. You are a strong woman and you've got places to go - you don't have time to pine away for this old man (he's quite a bit older than me) who's going in a different direction than you. You have a purpose and worth of your own, and you're neglecting it every time you sit and stare at his Facebook page instead of reading about what's going on in your field of study or making plans for the fall. 

Go pick decorations for your apartment. Crochet something for your friend's baby. Write a letter to your grandmother. Grab that fancy camera and take more pictures to brighten someone's day. You have so many gifts and talents that you could be using, instead of moping like a teenager and wasting your tears on someone who doesn't need or appreciate those gifts.  The time for hoping and wishing is past. The time for pressing forward and doing big things is here. He's not wasting his life, so stop wasting yours! 

I know.

My maiden-aunt voice is totally right, and I'm just as bad as my other silly friends who don't listen to her, either. I know I need to let go and stop hoping and put his book up on the shelf with all of the other long-gone friends whose names are gathering dust. But I keep wandering out into the wind and rainy days and looking sadly back at myself with big, tear-filled eyes, and whispering:

"But auntie ... I love him ... and I need him ... and I really, really miss him."

You're disgusting, self. You're disgusting and I'm ashamed of you. I raised you better than this.