I know I already posted something today, but as it’s Valentines Day and I wrote that review weeks ago, I felt like you all deserved a slightly more personalized post. It’s a holiday. Sort of. And instead of writing you a Valentines day song (which I’ve been known to do in the past) I thought I’d just write you a philosophical rant of sorts.
The inspiration for writing this blog came with a tiny thought in the back of my head as I pondered Valentines Day. That tiny thought got bigger, and eventually I realized that I’m not Hermione Granger. There’s no Ron in my future. Of course. I’m Jane Austen!
You know, world famous author who wrote epic, beautiful love stories and never married herself? Yeah. I’ve decided that’s going to be me.
Not the epic love stories part. It is physically impossible for me to write a story without a fight scene or an espionage element. But I have love in my stories. The Meg-Decklan-Luke triangle in Eugenia is enough to prove that.
And I don’t mean this in a depressing “NO MAN WILL EVER LOVE ME WHY DID NO ONE GET ME FLOWERS WAAAAAH” way. I really don’t mean a lot of things in a depressing way, they just come out that way. Like today at dinner when Ellen and I were having a conversation and I said “yeah… I never really got hugs.” Because it’s true. I didn’t. As a general rule I don’t touch people, unless they’re Bart and I’m sad or they’re a boy on the speech team and I’m hyper from sleep deprivation and stress. I don’t find that fact depressing, I just find it a fact.
It’s kind of the same deal as that with every personal account essay I’ve ever had to write. They’re always about me getting bullied in some manner. Because that’s basically what my life up to this year consisted of. Someone taking my painfully obvious self esteem issues and using them against me to hide their own insecurities. It’s admittedly more depressing than the hug thing, but again, it’s just a fact.
The same way me being Jane Austen is [going to be] a fact. And my revelation only has a little bit to do with the fact that I spent Valentines Day evening in my dorm eating Reeses that my mom sent me and reading a book about a guy pretending to be a vampire to get girls. Again, I really don’t find that as depressing as I should. I honestly prefer being on my own nine times out of ten. It’s not depressing, and I’m not really hiding. I’m just… staying in. Relaxing. Giving myself a break from the exhaustive work of not being completely apathetic about most things, because apparently people don’t exactly take to that.
The revelation also had two other factors. Like how that crush I mentioned last week has since dissolved because of unbaked cookies and said crush’s apparent switch of affections to my prettier, less awkward friend. Again, although at first I was a little bit bummed, it’s more of a fact than an actual thing. The first time I let my guard down since Sean, and the guy goes for my friend. It’s almost funny how much like a soap opera it played out. Minus the extreme closeups and dramatic, murmured conversations.
Speaking of Sean. After three “ignored” attempts at Facebook friendship, he tried a new tactic. Email. Subject of email: hey. Content of email: hey. As I admitted to my subconscious that I project as Lee Adama from Battlestar Galactica in my head, I’m not really rational when it comes to Sean. Ever. Even when I’m “being strong” and “standing up for myself”, I’m doing it in a way that won’t make him hate me. Because I’m an idiot around him.
The potential failure of this new Jane Austen aspiration is not lost on me, since the last time I made a declaration about being completely detached from relationships failed almost immediately. It was raining, and like I’m known to do, I took off my socks and stood out on the porch looking out at the rural landscape. I will never fall in love. I told myself. I will just have casual relationships for the rest of my life and not get tied down. Then it got cold and I had to go inside.
Not even three days later did Sean admit that he loved me. And then, because I’m, again, an irrational idiot, I admitted reciprocated feelings of love for my internet boy. I wasn’t lying. I did love him. More than I think I’ve loved anyone since Liam Aiken. I was completely, without a doubt, in love with this selfish, mixed-signal-sending boy from three hours away.
And that’s why I replied with a “hi” to his last ditch attempt at conversation with me. Not because I’m in love with him anymore; my heart still hurts too much to deal with that. But because I was in love with him, and part of me will always love him, for reasons I will never be able to articulate. And because It’s the only way I can prove, at the very least to myself, that I can get over him without another guy.
I’ve lost a friend recently. A good friend. One of my best friends, actually. And I still don’t completely understand why. And I don’t think I’ll ever look at people the same because of it. But you know what? I’m not going to be that girl who whines about commercialization and S.A.D. on Valentines Day. I’m not going to be the chick who cries herself to sleep because she has no one to buy her roses.
I’ll be the girl crying herself to sleep because her heart never truly cuts anyone away, because she never really stops loving anyone, no matter how much it seems like she does. And I’m the girl who will lip sync and dance in front of the mirror to Darren Criss because his voice is all the romance I need today.
Happy Valentines Day, everyone.
