I cannot believe that I am actually writing about this, but I was advised to write about what I know, and as of lately, this seems to be all I know. So, here I am, Kenna Foster, and overly emotional and constantly on-edge eighteen year old girl, writing about how I just got completely dumped on my ass (for my reader's pleasure, of course). Do I even have to say 'Enjoy'?
One moment while I take a sip of my diet ginger ale and allow my finger tips to dance smoothly above the keys of my lap top until I find the words I'll use to create an image of what exactly I'm feeling... *ooo, that's refreshing*
Now, where was I?
Very recently, the best person in my life turned out to be the worst, and now I'm left to manually and single handedly repair the damages that were created over the course of a year.
I've never been known to handle serious situations very well, or to react appropriately at all, for that matter. What is normal for me is extremely odd for the rest of the world, and although that has attracted myself an awful lot of unwanted attention in the past, it is one quality that I, interestingly enough, genuinely adore about myself. I'm a ticking time bomb that everyone is constantly checking over their shoulder to see if I am about to explode, and I do not intend to disappoint my audience.
Immediately after my last break up with what I believed at the time was the love of my life (athletics), I made the spontaneous and arguably poor decision to tattoo my number on my ankle... so, naturally, I did something along the lines of that action after this break up, as well (professionally done this time). After receiving my newly symbolic tat, and even throwing in a facial piercing into the batter of ingredients for a deliciously new Ken, I began thinking: If I were to react appropriately (which I obviously wasn't, it was already too late for that) how would I react? After commitably loving someone for such an extensive period of time, and then one day he, to everyone, especially my, surprise, shouts "nerve mind!" in my face as he forcibly kicks me in the ovaries and runs away holding hostage the last year and a half of my life and most personal experiences, what is the "appropriate" way to react to something like that? (Not literally, obviously, but the kick to the vagina would have hurt much less than this, but I can only imagine). That is when I realized: our actions, when reactionary, are not in our best selves. Which, for those of you with a slower mentality of comprehension of the English language, means that there is no "right" way to react to things! Reactions are just these little bubbles of emotions that expand over time as situation after shitty situation presents itself unexpectedly into your life, and eventually pops at the hand of whatever occurrence finally got to you the most; and this was that for me. Therefore, I haven't been in the wrong all these years of over/under (and various other directions) reacting, although I cannot argue that it hasn't been entertaining to watch.
I can confidently say that I have never felt hurt this intense in my entire life (even the nose piercing felt better than missing him, and that hurt like hell). I know, wholeheartedly, that I am going to be okay. I am going to be just fine without him, and that's good, but that also scares me, because what if that's all I ever am again? To the best of my ability, I am just fine? It is a frightening thought, but one that, with a little hard work and a lot of fake smiles, can be overcome with ease. I've just got to let time take it's time, and I'll be all right eventually.
I know this isn't going to be as it is inaccurately portrayed in films; there will not be a mute slide show where the sounds of everyday life is masked by a choice of background music to set the inexistent tone presenting little shots of me keeping myself busy with healthy actions and then twenty four seconds later I'm over him and a better version of who I originally was. I know I won't accidentally and conveniently bump into him at the grocery store while looking amazing and he'll realize he was wrong for leaving me and beg for my love again. (Although there is a small amount of hope in my heart that some crazy, movielike shit such as that will occur, of course. I'm a writer, therefore I'm doomed to be a hopeless romantic for the remainder of my existence, but I'm a little smarter than that... only a little, though).
Breaking up is, according to Neil Sedaka, hard to do. I call shenanigans to that statement, Niel! It isn't hard at all to say "It's not you, it's me" and deliver a swift uppercut to the self esteem all the while the poor dumpee could have sworn that their significant other was madly in love with them, blind to the troubles they've been unknowingly struggling through in their relationship. No, breaking up is not hard to do. It's getting dumped on your ass that stings a little, being left on your own to refigure out who you were before you committed to a year of emotion devotion and sex with only one person is hard to do, not breaking up with someone (sorry to tear your song title apart, Neil).
At the end of the day, I just have to remind myself of the lack of relationship I am currently in when I make the routine decision to dial the number that is unfortunately burned within my memory as I lay down to go to sleep. I have to remind myself that our first meeting was anything but cute, we never had a romantic first kiss, and I don't remember if we ever even went on a first date (basically, we were doomed from the start). I often times throughout the day have to look my reflection in the mirror and attempt to convince myself that I am not damaged or devastated, and kick myself in the butt for even temporarily believing so. I have to remind myself that the right guy (or girl) would love the things he hated about me, that I am too lively to be half loved and worth more than second thoughts and 'maybe's.
Loving someone is so beautiful, but so is moving the fuck on with your life after the bittersweet realization that the love is unrequited.
No comments:
Post a Comment