Like a Mountain

It’s getting harder and harder for me to get a good night’s sleep. I’m just too stressed. Between fighting with my friends and family and frantically trying to get everything prepared for grad school, I’m having a very hard time relaxing. For some people, it’s easy to relax when you have no job and live with a parent. Those people are worthless. I was much more rested when I was acting in several shows at once and trying to keep up with my coursework while writing for a political magazine. I haven’t had to worry about any of those in a while.

I believe that the universe has a shape to it. I believe that after making it this far, I’m not just going to crash and burn. But right now, I’m having trouble seeing my way through any of this. I can’t see where it’s leading; all I know is that I don’t like it right now. Don’t give me any of this “It’s always darkest just before the dawn” crap. I don’t have the time or the energy to put any stock in inspirational platitudes. I have far too many problems on my plate to think that anything is going to solve them but blood, sweat, and tears.

I’ve been single my entire life. My life would be a lot easier if I could just abandon my principles, but I cling to them, and I can’t just let go. The guys I like aren’t swishy and they aren’t “in the community”, they’re just guys. Where do all of the Guys Who Are Just Guys Who Like Other Guys Who Are Just Guys (GWAJGWLOGWAJGs) hang out? What I look for in a partner is hardly different from what anyone else wants. I want someone whom I find physically attractive, can hold a conversation with and will tolerate my presence. Is that so much to ask? I’m not particularly concerned with “From across the room, their eyes met” romantic bullshit. Most people go through that phase in high school or college, but I was too busy figuring other things out, so that kind of passed me by. Personally, I’d just as soon skip the part where we wear matching outfits and eat off of the same plate for the part where he sits on my couch in his underwear and eats Cheetos. I think that’s why I had such a hard time bidding farewell to the guy I met last year who recognized me at a party just because he’d seen me around campus wearing a Doctor Who shirt. I see people wearing shirts for things I like all the time, but I don’t remember their face unless I want to be on it. I thought we had a connection, so after months of deliberating, I reached out to him. I don’t think he even noticed. What an asshole. He seemed like the sort of guy whose dick I would still want to suck even as he sits on my couch with the aforementioned Cheetos, but such is life. I don’t feel quite so angry anymore.

There is still a part of me that is waiting for him to realize the error of his ways, but it gets smaller every day. I can’t say I’m going to miss it. Whatever happens from here on out, I need to put this behind me. It has a way of creeping back in. But I’m not done fighting.

These days, I feel like I spend half of my time feeling just fine and the other half feeling like a nervous wreck. This is in stark contrast to just over a week ago, when I woke up after two hours of sleep feeling like pure shit. That remains one of the roughest days of my life, which I spent the bulk of sitting in my room watching YouTube clips of everything from gospel music to inspirational quotes just because I couldn’t work up the strength to do anything else. Sometimes you just want to get away, you know? I guess an essential part of life is learning to live with the chains that we select for ourselves. That’s all of the bumper sticker wisdom I’ll be offering here. Life cannot be captured in a single sentence.

Someday, I might be able to sleep well every night. I used to be able to do that no matter what. About two-and-a-half years ago, I lost that ability. I’m still trying to gain it back. I guess this is what they call “growing pains”. (Incidentally, if you’re reading this just because you saw the tag and thought I was talking about the TV show, fuck off.) Most of the time, I just feel like a pinball, ricocheting around the inside of a machine at top speed with no idea where I’m going to end up, but I nasty feeling that I won’t like it.

I have learned by now that it is foolish to think that you have any control over the grand scheme of things. People who focus on their day-to-day struggles and let the rest work itself out tend to do alright. The universe may have a shape, but that doesn’t mean it won’t fuck you like a prison bitch if you think you’re smarter than it is. You aren’t. Don’t even entertain the notion. I’m trying to live as a part of this world. But it has to let me in.

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