So I spent three days restoring world order, and have otherwise been living the life of a goddamned saint for several months. Cracking was inevitable, although it was less a volcanic eruption than a steady slice through a carefully crafted glass veneer.
I was recently discussing my theory of “I’d rather be alone than wish I were,” and my friend had said he fluctuates between feeling the very same way and also not wanting to be alone at all. And I surprised myself by saying, very firmly, “I don’t.” Meaning, if I can’t be in the company I want, then I don’t want any.
I’ve spent a lot of time alone and wasn’t the slightest bit lonely. And now I find myself not alone and, yet, lonelier than I ever was. It’s disquieting, to say the least.
I was parting ways with this same friend not too long ago, where we said goodbye and hugged. And I probably deflated his lungs, I squeezed him so hard. I couldn’t help it. I’ve been fighting so hard to remain standing, to keep from exploding or even imploding, and to do it without having anything steady to hold on to.
And for that fraction of a second, I felt myself relaxing — that I was actually, finally, leaning on someone stronger than me. Like, I could almost breathe because the precarious balance of the world wasn’t going to collapse if I took a moment’s break from holding it together.
And my friend is another one who takes on the weight of the world. I suppose people like us recognize that in each other. Perhaps only the strongest people can support each other, because we’re used to protecting weakness but otherwise repelling it when it’s our turn to be in need.
“The broken locks were a warning
You got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded
I’m an open book instead.”— Lifehouse, “Broken”
My friend noted that I’m different lately. I forget the adjective used, but I found myself not certain whether to feel disappointed in myself that my stress is so apparent to someone other than me or awestruck that someone noticed and maybe even cared that I’m feeling so overly, utterly captive to whatever is plaguing me.
I don’t want my stress to be apparent. Not that I wanted all these stressors in the first place, but I was rather happy, thinking everyone thought I was so adept at privately dealing with everything and hiding it from the world. Oh well. I do like to revel in my illusions.
My friend told me to envision the good things coming my way. I said quite honestly that I keep trying to believe in them, and that I see them so very clearly. Yet, I find myself watching them pass me by.
I’m not kidding when I say I’ve got a very strong vision of what I want. I can tell you down to the detail of how my nails will be manicured in this amazing dream that keeps me going. But, as I said, “Apparently, it’s not my turn yet.”
In any case, I thank the universe profusely for sending me this small glimmer of understanding that I’ve been needing for a very long time. I know it was just a moment, a feeling, an “a-ha” moment that I’m really not alone, but I hope to pay it back someday.
As a matter of fact, I don’t know how I’m holding it all together. But I think I can hang in there just a little while longer.
I’ll keep waiting my turn for those good things I know have to be on their way. I just feel like I’m holding No. 78 and the celestial deli is now serving No. 14.
But at least I know exactly what I want when my time to order comes up. I’ll know that I will have deserved the best service possible as my reward. And I won’t lose faith that this day is coming … eventually.
“The broken clock is a comfort
It helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow
From stealing all my time.”