Big Empty

Trying to fill up.

I've had one truly meaningful relationship. The rest were fairly empty in the end. I was able to fill myself with the meaning of the other things I was doing. Learning, being a good person, basking in sunlight, listening to music.

Lately, I've been trying to put enough empty in me to fill me up. Filling up with alcohol, with smoke, with boys that mean nothing to me. As if it will set me free.

Learning has become empty. This semester, I was required to take two business classes. It's the most meaningless shit I've ever had the displeasure of being subjected to. And what's more, I have to practice it, as well. For what? A grade? It just does not seem worthwhile. I know I only have a couple weeks left in the semester, but I'm having so much trouble pressing on. I hate what I have to do for these classes, it's such a waste of time. It is the opposite of creativity. It is the opposite of meaning.

As for being a good person, I'm trying to get back there. I grew up understanding that it was important to be a good person because god commanded so, and he was the purpose of life. Now that I've become agnostic, I'm trying to grasp having my own meaning. It sounds like it should be easy, but when you've lost so much hope, it's just not.

Music is coming back to me. I'm falling in love with albums again. Which I think is a good sign. Maybe I'm learning how to rebuild myself again. It's just tough when I'm in the position I'm in. I have to finish out this semester even if it's hindering my personal growth.

In other news, he's breaking up with her. I don't know what to think, do, say. My roommate says it means something that he comes back to me every time he has a problem or breaks up with a girl. Maybe it just means I'm familiar. Or maybe it means he feels the thing I feel, too. I don't know. I don't know if it even matters right now, the timing would be off right now, anyways.

The thing is, this is the only thing that has consistently mattered to me. Feels so unfair. We won't be living in the same place. Our lives are so different now. "A bird may love a fish, but where will they live?" And maybe I am simply his friend. I can only know how it feels for me. And I know that when I went to meet him last week, I felt strange things in my stomach and a giddy nervousness. This is not the kind of thing I thought could transcend years. I'm overwhelmed and tired.

Oh, sweet stranger

I sometimes wonder how creepy I am. There are people on campus I see and am intrigued by. Rather than mustering some confidence to talk to them, I stumble upon someone's facebook, and then surf from profile to profile, scouring for interesting information, for a blog link, for photos they've taken. Then, I let myself get to know this stranger and sometimes contemplate about his or her life.

This might be because I'd prefer think about someone else's life than my own. Mine's a mess, one I don't want to deal with.

A lot of people are into this formspring thing, where people can anonymously (or not anonymously, if they choose) ask questions and the person will answer them and post them to his or her page. I was reading the questions/answers on the pages of some of my friends. Someone asked, "Who is the most beautiful person you know?" She answered with my name. I was truly touched. And just so surprised. Because, really? I don't feel so beautiful lately, inside or out. I didn't think anyone else could see me that way, either.

I saw him yesterday. We had coffee. I still don't know how I feel about it. It felt like it always does. I bit of nervousness, but still at home. Comfortable. Even though it's been a few months since we last saw one another. And a few years since our last kiss. He told me his girlfriend was upset that he was seeing me. Why would he tell me that? The things he says, sometimes. "You've got quite a set of eyes." No one else can understand the depth of that statement, and that only makes it worse. It's not a longing I feel. It's almost a dread. The dread of knowing it will always be him, despite my best efforts. Despite the fact that I'd like to have the choice of someone else. It always comes back to him, and that terrifies me. Ultimately, because I wonder if there are other me's. If I've just diluted myself into thinking I'm the only one he talks to this way, that these things only mean so much to me, they are just his passing comments. It would be so sad and pathetic. I'm not waiting around, but it always looms.