Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Rinse & Repeat

I sometimes wonder why I keep doing things to myself. It's amazing how comforting it can be to be destructive. Like a fat kid to food, or the need to be in a constant relationship to prove that you're needed somehow in life.

Oftentimes, when I feel in a depressive mood, it means "it's that time of the month," though it doesn't mean that's any better. I like to think I'm a gal who can take things in stride, liking change and being okay with pretty much anything.

Yet I find myself loving routine.

The tediousness of making my bed, washing a dish, writing notes in class... and when that sudden routine is gone, I feel odd, as if a treat were taken from me. I get worried, anxious and wonder what to do with myself.

And I don't talk about it. Else wise, I'll want to talk about it all the time. So, instead, I think about it all the time. As I always tend to think and rethink things over. Who would have thunk that I'd be such a second-guesser? A believer of knowing myself, I rethink the stupidest situations of my life.

When it comes to those times, I try to find the biggest rationale; "How can I deal with this situation?"

*Freak out
*Think some more

A little anxiety attack later, I begin to realize that none of the options above do me any good, at least in large amounts. Freaking out isn't the healthiest of options. Talking can be good, but if I don't watch myself, than that's all I'll be talking about. Writing can be a good way to get feelings out, but after a while, it's like talking--there's only so much (though, many good ideas can sprout from it). And thinking in general tends to get me in trouble, as I loop and loop in my head, bashing myself with images and ideas to a point of deciding never to deal with the situation again, which usually leads to me separating myself from said situation in every way possible, as I "can't take the heartache."

It's completely unhealthy emotionally wise. I know this. It burns down bridges, makes awkward relationships and ultimately withdraws self from others in a depressing manner. To be honest, it's downright emo.

Ever since I was a little girl, watching The Little Mermaid so many times that the tape doesn't even play properly, I'd been waiting for my own "true love." The kind that no evil can tear apart, the kind that has no wavering or wondering about the other's true feelings... you know, the crap Disney sells to us every damn movie.

But that's not the real world. We hope to see that in someone's gaze or smile. Instead, I now see relationships that hold on to each other by strings of sex. Jealousy, envy and cheating ruling the campus world. I find it rare when a true relationship emerges from the stockpile of junk, as the relationships I see tend to sprout from drunken nights where they vaguely remember making out.

Ah, l'amour.

But those only become my issues when it comes to finding the guy I adore. I don't drink, smoke, party... This could be described as the boring college girl who studies, but that's not true. I'm not impressed by someone's drunk-spell or ability to relax their minds via some drug. As much as I hate to admit it, I like feeling emotions, rather than numbness of the everywhere. I must, as I continue to place myself in certain situations for the beautiful vicious cycle to take me over.

You could chalk it up to inexperience. I've never dated anyone, or been anything other than good friends. When it comes to anything over than friendship-love, I couldn't even tell you which foot goes where. I dilly-dally so much, mouth shut, waiting patiently for his outcry of "Disney-love," then essentially crash, placing myself in a bought of self-pity and icing my heart over to promise myself that I'll never do it again, blocking away any sense of affection for fear of opening myself up.

Over the years, I've managed to place myself in many destructive situations, not just with relationships love-wise but friendship-wise as well. I'm amazing like that, I guess. As soon as the hint of "more-than" hits, I'm scurrying off, paranoid about the loss of friendship, wondering what every gesture means and convincing myself genuinely that there is no possible way that that person could like me more than a friend.

I set myself up for that.

I boast an air of finding true love, imagining a friendship blooming afire into passion, but whenever the thought shows a hint of reality, every single reason not to follow through is booming into my skull as well as a list of proof that there is no way I am looked at intimately by Mr. Infatuation.

It would be easy to break the cycle. Easy as saying, "Hey, I like you," which, by the way, can't seem to cross my lips if it means more than friendship. I have turned down four guys for my current infatuation, yet I refuse to show the true feelings for fear of... what? Rejection? Non-rejection?

I have so many excuses. I could say the things I like in a guy that could counter the reasons of all the waiting, the patience, the hopeful heart rather than the aggressive one. I want an attractive, humorous, affectionate, witty, bold, mature guy that has attention only for me, for starters. I'd like him to make the first move, as then I know his motives (and it's a bonus if he asks first, which means he respects my needs/wants as well).

I guess, the thing is, I did have four guys who made the first move. So, I'm waiting around for the one who is like a good friend, who's attention is all over the place and affections come at the cost of who knows what'll happen. His moves are on many females. And, though I'm being over dramatic on his behavior, as he's a really nice guy, I'm just ending up hurting myself all over again. Just like Senior year in High School. And Freshman year in College. Oh, and Sophomore year, too.

I have trust issues. And I'm beginning to think it's more with myself than other's.

Random Fact: Divorce rates in America
Under 20 years old 27.6% 11.7%
20 to 24 years old 36.6% 38.8%
25 to 29 years old 16.4% 22.3%
30 to 34 years old 8.5% 11.6%
35 to 39 years old 5.1% 6.5%

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