Happy April; I’m the fool. (I know it’s already the 3rd, but being a fool never goes out of style)
I have applied for my first of seven schools in England! It’s the University of Essex. I don’t know how strict UK universities are, and I don’t know how hard it is to get in, but I really hope I do, because it’s a psycholinguistics MA, like specifically psycholinguistics. You did notice, though, I said MA. See, I’ve decided that in order to make myself as palatable a candidate as possible, I must swallow my pride and apply as a Masters student. It’s hard for me to do, because despite trying not to be, I’m a complete snob when it comes to academia, but I think it’s my only move at this point. I really do feel like I’m playing a losing chess game with my life. It’s how I’ve always felt, really, now that I think about it. I play the right moves, or what I think are the right moves, but my opponent is always better, and no matter what I do, I keep losing. I believe that I’m fundamentally bad at the game, but I keep playing anyway, because I’m stubborn like that. And maybe that’s a good thing. We all remember that iconic scene in Captain Marvel, meant to exemplify Carol’s humanity, in which she keeps getting up after being knocked down. That’s me, or at least it’s how I’d like to be, resilient until it’s easy. Or maybe it never will be easy, but I can get to the point where things don’t make me cry so much, and I know how to take criticism without self-combusting.
I’m just now realizing that it was six years ago that I was living life at my happiest. Six whole years ago. Eighteen-year-old me was like a completely different person. No, well really, she was a completely different person. We never step twice into the same stream and all that. But it’s weird to think about— even then, I never believed I would live this long. But now I’m all grown up. I think it’s been hard for me to accept that I’m not in college anymore. No one wants to admit that they’re getting older. I feel like one of my beloved Romantic poets would have something to say about the matter, but because I’m nowhere near as well-read as I used to be, I can’t bring it to mind. Consider it said, though.
That’s such a sad paragraph. That legitimately made me sad. But things don’t have to be over for me. They really don’t. I can still be who I want to be. And who’s that?
I want to be kind and warm and gentle and good. I want to make people feel loved and safe and happy, and I want to help the world around me in all the different ways I can. I want to water the sunflowers in life and make lemonade. I want to talk to animals, hold cooking parties, kiss my friends, dance in the elevator, and read pretentious literature. I want curiosity and enthusiasm and passion and love and contentment, and I want to buy flowers for my friends, and I want to bake bread for people, and I want to look at the stars.
And then there’s all the other things I want, like a good job, and pretty lingerie, and designer clothes, and nice ingredients for cooking, and fresh flowers, and lots of makeup, and shoes and books and home decor, but that’s only secondary. I think I could work at a not-so-good job and still feel fulfilled if I was happy with who I was. Although, I don’t know, on second thought. Working in the warehouse made me want to die. That’s not a really good precedent.
Wait a second. Am I disabled? Like, does mental illness count as a disability? If so, that could explain why working 12-hour days makes my symptoms flare up badly enough to threaten my life. Because that’s what it is, really. Work makes me suicidal; I do dumb stuff (even drinking while on my medications is pretty dangerous). Wow, I just realized this. If I’m disabled, it makes sense that I can only handle at most a 10-hour day. And there’s no shame in it! If other people can be disabled, I can, too, and I’m just as valid as they are.
I think I’m afraid of people leaving me. I sort of expect it to happen, and I’m resigned to it, but I also hate the thought of it. So I’m afraid of E leaving me, even though I know it would be better for her if she did.
Okay, hold that thought, I have to go be a responsible adult and do something around the house.
I'm back!
As I was saying, it's so terrifying to know that no matter what I do, I may end up alone. It very well could happen, you know. I'm not so amazing as all that. But then again, though, it could be that some people think I am. I told Talia that I feel like one of those gimmicky restaurants, because I'm quirky and fun for awhile, and then I get annoying. But she reminded me that even those restaurants have their regulars. Isn't she awesome? But anyway, I think that could be true. Maybe I will find a "regular" who will love me despite my weird soul and kooky ways. Maybe, in fact, I already have. I want that to be the case. I love her so much. I mentioned her in therapy today, and I literally only just said her name, but my therapist remarked on how "there's something there" and how my demeanor changed. I take that to be a good thing. I don't think I mentioned it, but she's coming to visit in two months! I'm so excited that I can hardly sit still. It'll be a whole week full of happiness, and we're going to Vegas at the end, and Talia and some of our friends are coming, too. It's going to be so amazing, unless we break up. What if it happens? I realized that our relationship might have to form in person as well as online, so we'll essentially have to fall in love twice. Can that happen? Is it possible? I really want it to happen. But this is going to be the test of whether or not things can continue-- if things go really badly, then I'll know. But if they go really well, then I'll know that, too. I really hope they go well. That's what I want more than anything. Well, okay, I guess I want my career a little more than that. But this is right up there. I mean, damn, what if I could actually get married and start a family? I never thought I could have that. I'm trying not to get my hopes up too much, because what if things don't go well and I end up disappointed, but I still catch myself dreaming every so often.
I'm suddenly tired. I want to take a nap. But it's already nearly 7PM, and that would be weird. But maybe I'm not actually tired. Maybe I'm just bored.
Why do I hate being sober so much? Well, I guess I don't, really, unless I'm around the house. And then it's terrible. But seriously, though, what's so bad about existing as me? Maybe I need to take up those self-love exercises I was doing once again. In fact, I probably really should. Post to come...