Go Your Own Way
June 4, 2009 § Leave a comment
I can’t believe that the first piece of advice my mom gave me regarding the break-up was that I shouldn’t be so concerned about finding a boyfriend who is Christian. What?! Not only does she clearly not know me at all, this is just another example of her total inability to express anything close to sympathy. I can tell that she’s pissed at him, though, which makes me feel a little better because at least she cares to some extent.
The second thing she told me was not to be so easy, although not in those exact words. She’s right…I need to be more careful, more calculating. “You do not need a boyfriend, nor will you lack one. For now, you need to focus on school and work,” she said, and though that is only an imperfect translation from the Chinese, that’s what I took her words to mean. It is perhaps the most [and only] empowering thing she’s ever told me.
When I told my dad I was going to go have a talk with J a few days ago, he asked me if I wanted to bring a knife. Ha ha.
[In other parental news, I saw my dad pat my mom on the butt while they were cooking dinner the other day. LOL.]
On a serious note, though, this whole debacle has been extremely tiring for me. I think about our failed relationship almost daily, even if just for a fleeting moment during a song. Everybody is curious about relationships and wants to talk about them, and I do feel the urge to verbally purge my emotions sometimes, but I don’t. I can’t. Thinking about it is difficult enough, but talking about it makes me feel ill.
So I choose to write. Some of it is private, but most of it is here. Who cares? It’s not like he reads this blog anyway…although I was surprised to find out that “multiple people” had told him about certain content that I had chosen to publish [you snitches]. I wasn’t angry, just surprised; I didn’t think anything I wrote was interesting enough to talk about.
I’m having trouble falling asleep again. It was like this right after the breakup; I would hate the dark moments that allowed my mind to explore the thoughts I had been avoiding during the day. Even my dreams don’t bring me solace anymore; my subconscious has relented to my conscious, and in my sleep I cannot escape the ghosts of the past. To date, I’ve had six dreams about him, two of which were about prom. Dammit!
But I’m getting over it. In the meantime, it’s simply better not to bring it up.