Friday, October 9, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Who would think a collection of fuck-ups would lead to something this good?
This Raleigh Life, entry X:
I can't believe I've all ready been in Raleigh for what...7 months? It seems like last week that I was sitting in that old funeral parlor apartment, pretty much hating my life aside from a few factors. It feels like 3 days ago I was sitting in this tiny house of an apartment with no connection to the outside world, and only one friend in the area. Those first two weeks were Hell. I wanted to say "Screw it, I'm going back to Chesapeake." Thank God I can be stubborn when it comes to me.
I was thinking back to my life before Raleigh a few days ago. And it's so strange, that everything that lead me to being here was so completely backwards and idiotic. And it all started, really, with a terrible, soul crushing break-up almost 2 and a half years ago. Or was it longer? It feels like a life-time ago. Everything that happened from that point to the point where I left Chesapeake has been a clusterfuck of a fail, one after the next. I won't go and list every mistake I made, but I look back, and I can't help but think "What the Hell was I thinking?"
The fuck-up collection kept growing. Moving to Raleigh was a mistake. Or, at least, it was in the beginning. I wanted to move away from Chesapeake, and I had my sights set on somewhere near Philadelphia. Then communication started with someone I'll only refer to as "the ex" because I don't want her name showing up in this (mainly ignored and often forgotten) blog. Communications got to be more frequent. I was called from a bathroom, in secret, on my birthday. I was called while I was recovering from my ruptured disc surgery. I was called on the way to and from work. I was told things that made me think "Hey, maybe it's actually not over,"
Then moving came up, and the second shot came up after a visit. Road trips and visits were made by me to her. Things seemed wrong, but I'm far too much an optimist to have seen it. Who was I fooling? A week before I moved, everything fell apart. I'd been rejected for someone else again. I moved to Raleigh specifically for a second shot at greatness. And here's the thing, I got it, and it had absolutely nothing to do with her, and it did, all at the same time.
For the first time in, what, years, I could stop trying so fucking hard. I was, essentially, free. No more chains and everything. No more pretending to enjoy shitty music, or movies, or seeing valid points of the other side of politics, or anything. I was free to be me again, with no one to impress. I became what I wanted to be again. I missed me. I missed finding little-known bands, or being totally open about my dislike for the Republican Party (no offense what-so-ever to those who don't share my views.) The list is long, and I'm not about to point out everything. But, I'm me again. No more trying, no more getting my hopes up, no more worrying.
Work started to be fun again. I quickly made a ton of friends at my new store who, even if I ever leave that place, I won't lose. I got used to the roads, and found the cool spots to hang out at. I found out the joy of driving into downtown before rush hour hits to buy comics. I've found some joy (not much) in reading in an old laundromat.
And then, I met her. Desiree. Good God. It's astounding that I've found someone like her, AND I get to maintain that easy-going, none-impressive aspect of myself. There's NO changing myself, or filtering myself, or anything. She sees me for me, and that's more than good enough for her. I can honestly say I can't remembering ever being this happy before. She treats me so well, and I think I treat her equally. We always have a blast at whatever we do. I know I've written about it, but it bears repeating. Whether it be going to the comic store, to Ed McKay's to find a cheap book or DVD, or to The Noble because I forgot my paycheck on a Thursday night, staying in and watching a shitty werewolf movie (redundant, I know), or playing video games while she does a crossword, or driving to Chesapeake for a visit, it's all good. It's all amazing. I'm never bored with her, which is something I can't say for a single girl I've ever dated. I enjoy every single second we spend together. When she leaves, I hate it. I can't leave for work in the morning without tiptoeing back into my room to kiss her forehead gently without waking her. I wonder if she even knows I do that. I love the moments when I wake up before her, and she's lightly talking gibberish in her sleep. In short, I treasure her.
And that all goes back to the title of this little entry. Who would think a collection of fuck-ups would lead to something this good? All of the loneliness, the despair, the rejection, the hopelessness, it all seems like such a tiny price to pay for the happiness I now have. Do I forgive the person who put me through all of that? Fuck no. But, in some weird, sick way, I'm so glad it all happened the way it did. I wouldn't do a single thing to risk what Desiree and I have, and for the first time in 2 and a half years, that's the truth.
I can't believe I've all ready been in Raleigh for what...7 months? It seems like last week that I was sitting in that old funeral parlor apartment, pretty much hating my life aside from a few factors. It feels like 3 days ago I was sitting in this tiny house of an apartment with no connection to the outside world, and only one friend in the area. Those first two weeks were Hell. I wanted to say "Screw it, I'm going back to Chesapeake." Thank God I can be stubborn when it comes to me.
I was thinking back to my life before Raleigh a few days ago. And it's so strange, that everything that lead me to being here was so completely backwards and idiotic. And it all started, really, with a terrible, soul crushing break-up almost 2 and a half years ago. Or was it longer? It feels like a life-time ago. Everything that happened from that point to the point where I left Chesapeake has been a clusterfuck of a fail, one after the next. I won't go and list every mistake I made, but I look back, and I can't help but think "What the Hell was I thinking?"
The fuck-up collection kept growing. Moving to Raleigh was a mistake. Or, at least, it was in the beginning. I wanted to move away from Chesapeake, and I had my sights set on somewhere near Philadelphia. Then communication started with someone I'll only refer to as "the ex" because I don't want her name showing up in this (mainly ignored and often forgotten) blog. Communications got to be more frequent. I was called from a bathroom, in secret, on my birthday. I was called while I was recovering from my ruptured disc surgery. I was called on the way to and from work. I was told things that made me think "Hey, maybe it's actually not over,"
Then moving came up, and the second shot came up after a visit. Road trips and visits were made by me to her. Things seemed wrong, but I'm far too much an optimist to have seen it. Who was I fooling? A week before I moved, everything fell apart. I'd been rejected for someone else again. I moved to Raleigh specifically for a second shot at greatness. And here's the thing, I got it, and it had absolutely nothing to do with her, and it did, all at the same time.
For the first time in, what, years, I could stop trying so fucking hard. I was, essentially, free. No more chains and everything. No more pretending to enjoy shitty music, or movies, or seeing valid points of the other side of politics, or anything. I was free to be me again, with no one to impress. I became what I wanted to be again. I missed me. I missed finding little-known bands, or being totally open about my dislike for the Republican Party (no offense what-so-ever to those who don't share my views.) The list is long, and I'm not about to point out everything. But, I'm me again. No more trying, no more getting my hopes up, no more worrying.
Work started to be fun again. I quickly made a ton of friends at my new store who, even if I ever leave that place, I won't lose. I got used to the roads, and found the cool spots to hang out at. I found out the joy of driving into downtown before rush hour hits to buy comics. I've found some joy (not much) in reading in an old laundromat.
And then, I met her. Desiree. Good God. It's astounding that I've found someone like her, AND I get to maintain that easy-going, none-impressive aspect of myself. There's NO changing myself, or filtering myself, or anything. She sees me for me, and that's more than good enough for her. I can honestly say I can't remembering ever being this happy before. She treats me so well, and I think I treat her equally. We always have a blast at whatever we do. I know I've written about it, but it bears repeating. Whether it be going to the comic store, to Ed McKay's to find a cheap book or DVD, or to The Noble because I forgot my paycheck on a Thursday night, staying in and watching a shitty werewolf movie (redundant, I know), or playing video games while she does a crossword, or driving to Chesapeake for a visit, it's all good. It's all amazing. I'm never bored with her, which is something I can't say for a single girl I've ever dated. I enjoy every single second we spend together. When she leaves, I hate it. I can't leave for work in the morning without tiptoeing back into my room to kiss her forehead gently without waking her. I wonder if she even knows I do that. I love the moments when I wake up before her, and she's lightly talking gibberish in her sleep. In short, I treasure her.
And that all goes back to the title of this little entry. Who would think a collection of fuck-ups would lead to something this good? All of the loneliness, the despair, the rejection, the hopelessness, it all seems like such a tiny price to pay for the happiness I now have. Do I forgive the person who put me through all of that? Fuck no. But, in some weird, sick way, I'm so glad it all happened the way it did. I wouldn't do a single thing to risk what Desiree and I have, and for the first time in 2 and a half years, that's the truth.
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