Just stop

Sometimes I literally want to pull myself out of my own body, stare at what the hell I'm trippin' about and slap me back into reality. Seriously. Have you ever noticed what you are doing while you're doing it and want to say to yourself, "Hey, just stop!" I do, but then again since I already dug myself into a hole I can't get out of I just wallow in it for awhile and wonder how I got myself in this mess in the first place.

It all started when I first became an official "girlfriend." The real deal. Holding hands, writing love letters, pet names, the whole shabang. I was 14 for fuck's sake. Naive, infatuated, unaware that shit happens...in other words an optimist. The worst kind. The ones that actually believe nothing and no one can touch them if they're "in love." What did I know? I was your typical adolescent teenager dating someone older than me, someone just as crazy about me as I am of them and for some reason it felt good to be cheesy and overconsumed with each other. That is until I lost myself in the process.

All I knew how to be was this "girlfriend." Whatever he wanted to do was cool as long as it was with him. It didn't even occur to me how strange it started to become when his own mother would accompany us on dates and want to hold his hand too as we walked in the mall. She would buy me these hideous dresses and say, "It's about time to get out of those baggy pants and be a lady." (Come to think of it, I liked those baggy pants. They were comfortable and in style back then to be wearing stuff twice my size. And who said I was ready to be a "lady" anyway.) But there I was. Wearing dresses that itched with curlers in my hair.

We did have our good times. Afterall I was his FIRST everything too. But then I realized as the years passed (a whole 7 years to be exact) we were turning into the couple from Hell. The ones who pretty much had a fight scheduled every 15 minutes. When we'd hang out because it's what couples do. And as we sat across from each other at a restaurant the only thing we'd say was, "Pass the bread."

A routine. A planned relationship with unfortunately nothing in common. This is when we ventured out with other people doing other things. Finding interests of our own that just didn't include each other. It came to a point where when his family and I attended one of his award shows, I was surprised at just how many clubs he had joined. I just nodded my head as if I knew it all along. I suddenly thought to myself, "Holy shit I don't even know the person I am with anymore."

We tried to get back to the old days of when the only thing worth doing was being with each other. When doing nothing was exciting because we'd be in the same room. But that got old quick. I'd often find myself sitting up in his bed with my arms crossed while he slept next to me thinking, "Why am I here?" He got so comfortable around me that even a shower would be too much for him to do. Brushing his hair would be a plus. There was this one year where he would spend hours on end in front of a computer, where if you listen real close you could hear the static cling of his pants pulling away from the fabric of his computer chair.

He had his good points. A genius really. I could ask him anything, just throw a random question at him and he knew the answer almost instantly. This was before the Internet became so easily accessible and popular to use. It didn't matter what topic it covered or how long ago it took place. He was a library of information and I enjoyed picking at his brain just to see if he would fuck up. Never did. He could tear a computer apart and put it back together like child's play. And do this because it was fun. An amusing character who if you knew him couldn't possibly hurt a fly.

Then again...this is why it became even more difficult to argue with him. People would automatically assume it was always my fault because well...I could hurt a fly. Especially if it was buzzing in my face. (I'm not insect-friendly by any means.) And he slowly began to transform into one. The ones just constantly crawling all over me. Seeing how far they could go before I snapped. It became a game, "Try to snap, I dare you" game. And he became my fly.

It drove me insane. Why did I put up with it for so long? The same reason why he did and why anyone would. It's a routine. A plan. A comfort zone in which you don't want to pull yourself away from and do all over again with someone else. The whole first encounter, getting to know each other, discovering the dark side, the good, the bad, the oh shit...The whole, "What was the point in all this if it were just going to end?" Until you regret it and start to regret each other for having it last as long as it did.

There's this thing called, "Happiness" when it comes to love. A desire to want to be with another person to share your intimate thoughts and ideas about anything. A spark of interest in what they think and have to say in return. This connection, a buzz, moments that really make life feel worth living. And yes it's corny, an emotional high that you just can't get enough of, but so what? The euphoria is what people, whether they want to admit it or not, actually want. It's what I want. It's what he and I lacked in the end.

I am well aware that nothing lasts forever and that after a while, two people will eventually know each other pretty well that things become predictable. However, it is not "love" that moves in phases. It's the people. And once we start to forget why we are even in this relationship to begin with and what actually makes us click, we should ask ourselves, "What's the point?" And if the answer is "Routine. Plan. Comfort zone. Convenience" rather than "Happiness. Love. Desire. Connection," then we have moved on. Maybe even unconsciously. So pull yourself out of your own body and just stop.