Indescribable

It’s been a pretty uneventful 20 days since my last post, mainly because my days now are filled with work and after-work mundaneness. I go out to happy hour once in a while with friends, or I come home and make dinner for myself and then go to bed. I’ve reunited with an old friend and subsequently may have an apartment lined up later this month, though I don’t want to jinx it. Right now my thoughts are concentrated on finding a suitable apartment in which to live my life for the next 2 years. It took me about one month to find a roommate whom I thought I could live with for the next 2 years, but whether my judgment prevails remains to be seen.

I haven’t given much thought to Vicky. That is, until last night. I keep doing stupid things when I’m drunk, and I get so mad at myself the next day. The thing is, I don’t think she even realizes what it all meant, or really, what any of this has meant in the last eight months. I sent her a text message last night in the middle of all whirlwind drunken madness — “The corner of a bar still reminds me of you. It’s a fucking curse.” Well, it’s true, last night I caught sight of the corner of a bar counter, and I immediately reminisced about the time Vicky and I sat at a sports bar, eating cheese fries, and this creepy 40-year-old man was hitting on us. It was hilarious at the time, and it still is, but these are the moments that I look back on with such fondness and that bring back memories of her in this indescribable tidal wave. I honestly hadn’t thought about her in the last 20 or so days, and suddenly, catching the sight of that corner of the bar counter brought everything back overwhelmingly. I don’t even know why. It’s the idea of her that I miss, not her, really. There’s something deep inside me that wants something out of her and the memories of her that I know, in reality, she could never deliver.

She texted back later in the night, but I didn’t get it until this morning because I basically passed out on my bed when I came home — “What happened? You ok?” What am I supposed to respond with? No, nothing is ok. Nothing has been ok since you left. The memories of you go in and out like tidal waves, and it’s nothing I can control. And the fact that I can’t control any of this drives me insane. I just want you to get out of my head. Now. It’s like she didn’t suspect for a second that the “curse” I was talking about was… her. The memory of her and the memories of us together — that’s the curse. But after all these months, and all the revelations via e-mail, it becomes apparent to me that she has no idea how much of an effect she has on me still. And honestly, I don’t blame her, because I am surprised as well. She’s an abstraction formulated purely by my imagination, and I have to stop thinking about her. I’ve been trying to wrestle with this thing for months now, and I still don’t think I can completely articulate any of it. It’s indescribable, and it drives me insane. That’s all I know.

Come On, God, Do I Seem Bullet-Proof?

Somehow, after telling Vicky the almost-truth of how I felt about her during one of those 3 e-mail exchanges has lessened the weight of her presence in my mind. I no longer think about her as much as I did before. I think I’ve mentioned that her presence comes in and out of my consciousness in waves. Sometimes it’s not as bad as other times, but I think this time I am ready to make a fresh start. Maybe confessing myself to her slightly helped me get over this whole thing. I feel that I am ready to make a fresh beginning from all of this. I don’t know in which direction I will head now, but I think my mind and soul has taken as many hits as possible in all of this. For God’s sake, it’s been seven months now. I should really move on from this already. I’m probably never going to see her again. I just need to move on and find someone else who will appreciate my love and kindness.

Like I mentioned before, I am quite asexual right now. Apart from a sudden bout of horniness two days ago, I haven’t really felt much like exploring the opposite sex or any kind of sex, for that matter. Maybe it’s the stress of starting a new job or apartment-hunting, but I am just completely worn out. Or really, I think it’s all the bad luck I’ve run into in the last year or so that has really worn me out. Can you really blame me for feeling this way? Sometimes I just sit there and think, “Come on, God, do I seem bullet-proof?”

Just cut it out already, and give me something real to hold on to.

Just Got Paid

I just got my first full-time job paycheck. Woohoo? Not really. It’s actually a lot less than I had hoped. Stupid taxes. New York City taxes are crazy out of this world. God. Damn. It. I am still feeling the squeeze of my wallet, and I probably will for a while, which further convinces me that I need to work at this job for 2 years. I was thinking of maybe working in Australia for 4 months or so, after my law school application process finishes. That would give me enough peace of mind to fully enjoy my experience there.

Still, I haven’t really talked about my job on here. I’ve been stupidly preoccupied with the thoughts of Vicky and my asexuality. GRRR. Well, whatever, I love my job. I love my law firm. I love the people who work there, and I love the work. I know it sounds weird to people who aren’t interested, but I love the law. I love the way lawyers think and I love the way they analyze things. It’s exactly what history majors do. Anyway, I love the perks of the law firm, too. Free dinners during overtime, free cab rides home late at night, free breakfast on Fridays, and a kitchen with endless amounts of yummy things to eat. The other day I went to the UN to drop off some documents and a Lincoln Towncar drove me there, waited for me as I dropped off the documents, and then took me back to the office. It was pure VIP treatment, and I loved every second of it. And to think, I’m only a paralegal right now! Imagine the treatment I’d receive as a lawyer. This. Is. The. Life.

I just wish it paid a little bit more. Sigh.

The Idea of Her

It’s hardest when I’m alone. She becomes the only thing my mind can think about. When I’m at work, out with friends, or being distracted by anything, the loneliness and the pain is bearable and barely noticeable. But when I come home, and I’m all alone in this room, she is all I can think about.

We traded 3 e-mails over the weekend. Dinner never happened, and I told her I just couldn’t plan on seeing her especially if she was going to do the same thing she always did before — not respond or not show up. She didn’t write back.

I’ve noticed a lot of similarities between her and Spencer. They are both very good at emotionally manipulating me. They both say one thing and do another, and that’s why I’m always so hooked. But now I need to unhook myself. I’m not going to write to her again. And I’m not going to attempt to contact her again. That was the last time. There is no point in trying anymore. If my mind thinks about her, then it is my own suffering and pain and I have only myself to blame. Because honestly, there is no reason why I should still be thinking about her anymore. She is not who I want her to be. I love the idea of her, and not her. Just the idea. I am fooling myself into thinking that she is more than she really is.

I have to stop thinking about her. I have to.